


White Snow: Revelation

by Vhetin1138



Series: White Snow: Year 1 [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Year 1 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhetin1138/pseuds/Vhetin1138
Summary: Cin Vhetin and his partner Jay Moqena have worked together for almost a year now, bringing in multiple bounties on the galaxy’s worst criminals. But now their partnership — and their skills as bounty hunters — will be put to the ultimate test.When one of Vhetin's contacts is attacked by a mysterious hitman, he and Jay realize that someone has been watching them for a long time. What this enigmatic assassin wants with the hunters is unknown, but as the hunters become the hunted, Jay finds that Vhetin knows more about the assassin than he lets on.As the inevitable confrontation with the assassin looms before them, it becomes apparent that their only hope for survival rests in the carefully guarded secrets of Vhetin's past.The time for preparation is over. One way or another, this is the end.





	1. Jay's Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story, and subsequent ones in the Year 1 series, has not been fully re-edited for errors and quality. They will be updated at a later date. Thanks for your patience.

My name is Jayshiea Elmerie Naer-Kolta. When my little sister was born, her first word was my name. But she couldn't say the whole thing, you see. All she could say was "Jay-jay". After that, the name stuck and all my friends now call me Jay.

Now, I'm usually a pretty forgiving person. I didn't complain when I was a kid, watching the Republic fight a war that was obviously little more than a power play for the rich and privileged. I didn't bat an eyelash when I watched the HoloNet reports that said the Jedi had been revealed as traitors and that the Chancellor had declared himself Emperor. Hell, I was willing to give some people the benefit of the doubt when the Imperials branded me a traitor for a crime I never committed.

Now I'm running out of mercy. I am done giving people second chances.

Since my imprisonment, I've built up a new life for myself on Mandalore, a near-backwater planet on the mid-rim. With help from my partner, I've built up a reputation as a skilled, reliable bounty hunter. A few months ago, I didn't think I could go on after my fellow pilots were killed in action. But thanks to the help of some really great – and a couple really weird – Mandalorians, I've managed to move on with my life.

Too bad it's all been turned on its head again.

I want to blame my partner for never telling me about who he really was. I want to put all the blame on his helmeted head. He led me along without telling me anything, and I put up with it like the trusting fool I am.

Funny… it all started with Vhetin freeing me from jail. He was the one who rescued me, brought me to Mandalore, and taught me the skills needed to survive in this ruthless galaxy.

I guess it's fitting that it should all end with him, too.


	2. Coruscant Ambush

_“Ori’adate trattok’or bal shuk manda ti kaysh’e.”_

_“When giants fall, they bring the heavens down with them.”_

_\- Mandalorian proverb_

**Level 1245, Coruscant Underworld**

Kalyn Farnmir waited outside the _Zephyr_ cantina, trying to ignore the stench of hundreds of years of accumulated garbage that was woven into the stale air. Level 1245 was a long-standing dumping ground for Coruscant Waste Disposal. While it wasn't as much of a gathering place for crime as some of the deeper levels like the infamous Level 1313, it was still overrun with criminal activity.

The exact kind of criminal activity she was looking for.

She folded her arms across her chest and tapped one foot impatiently, watching beings of all species hurry down the dark street. The only ambient light that penetrated the undercity was the wash of dull light that shone down from the huge entrance shaft that led not only into this particular underworld level, but also into the deeper, darker parts of the Coruscant Underworld. Ships and speeders sped through the light, in and out of the darkness that penetrated the city.

Though it was a little disconcerting to look up and see the reverse-skyscrapers that were built from the ceiling almost six hundred meters above her head, she had long since gotten used to the sight. She felt like she had spent half her life down here in the Underworld. She wasn't the only one, either. She knew of citizens on Coruscant who lived so deep that the only thing they knew of the surface were local legends. To them, sunlight was as rare as financial security was to Kalyn.

 _Financial security_ _…_ she thought with a sigh. That was the real problem wasn't it? She was one of the best bounty hunters on Coruscant and had once been one of the best in the entire galaxy, but her credit account was once again bottoming out. The satisfaction of cashing in a ten-thousand-credit bounty was short-lived once one started factoring in the debts she had to various contacts, the repairs she had to do to any damaged equipment, or medical expenses needed once the hunt was over. A normal mid-level bounty these days, while the reward may number in the thousands, did little more than pay for a week's worth of food once the bills were all paid.

Which was why she was down in this pit, waiting for a gunrunner who had been unlucky enough to cross into Black Sun's turf. She had been on this contract for several days, tracking the guy into the 1245 undercity; no small feat considering how huge Coruscant was. But she'd chased him down with the same ruthless determination she always worked with, hoping to catch him in the odor-rich refuse pile.

It was another fifteen minutes of impatient waiting before she heard footsteps from just inside the cantina door. She rested a hand against the butt of her silver-plated blaster.

 _Stay focused_ , she thought to herself. _You can't afford to lose this one._

A heavyset Twi'lek walked through the door and she drew her pistol. Careful to keep the sound of her bootsteps to a minimum, she snuck up behind the male and jammed her pistol into his back.

"Game's up, Peteria," she hissed into his ear. "You're coming with me."

The Twi'lek stiffened. He glanced over his shoulder at her before cursing quietly. "So Black Sun sent a bounty hunter after me? I'm flattered. I must be a bigger threat than I thought."

"All I care about is bringing you in to Xizor. So move it, before my trigger finger gets any itchier than it already is."

They slowly began moving down the street, Kalyn guiding her hostage with sharp jabs in his back. Her ship, _Tough Luck,_ was docked a few blocks away.

 _Just get him to the ship_ , she thought, _before anyone realizes what's going on_.

She had noticed that the hunting world had changed a lot since her early career. Bounty hunters during the days of the Republic had had some sense of honor, of respect for their fellows. Though hunters may find themselves on opposite sides of a contract, they always showed a certain appreciation for members of the same career. Nowadays, though, hunters would shoot each other on sight just to bag a hundred-credit bounty. There were too many rookies in the industry now, too many idiots with blasters who didn't respect anything but the money.

More and more these days – though she wouldn't admit this to anyone but herself – she felt like she was increasingly out of her depth in the current hunting world.

 _Then again_ , she thought, _that's probably a normal feeling when someone gets thawed out of carbonite after over a decade. You were frozen down toward the middle of the Clone Wars and revived well into the Empire's rule. Of course things are going to be different._

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few weeks she found herself thinking, _I'm getting too old for this crap. I should stockpile some credits and get out of this business while I still can._

But no matter how rusty she felt she was getting, she knew in her heart that she would never be able to retire. The truth was that she _lived_ for the hunt. She loved the sights and sounds and the different places her job took her to. Sure, most of the beings who lived in those places tried to shoot her the moment they saw her but so what? The job kept her on her toes, kept the bills paid…

She probably should have seen it coming. If she had been paying attention to her surroundings, she _would_ have seen it coming. But age and arrogance had dulled her senses, so when the blue ring of a stun bolt exploded from a dark alley, she didn't move in time to avoid it. The bolt hit her square in the back. She crumpled and screamed as electricity coursed through her nervous system. Her body began to twitch in uncontrollable spasms and she began to drool uncontrollably.

As the shocks faded, she watched through bleary, watering eyes as a figure in a long brown trench coat strode out of the alley. The being completely ignored Peteria, who had taken off down the street. He made straight for Kalyn, a large blaster pistol in his hand.

She tried to reach for her own fallen weapon but he kicked it away when her fingers just brushed its silver-plated surface. He fired another stun round into her back and she broke into spasms again. He watched her with cold blue eyes that shone out from behind an angular metal helmet. The helmet had a smooth forehead and a rectangular grill where the mouth would be. The armor was a dull gun-metal-gray with no paints or identifying markings.

When she had collapsed again, gasping for breath, he knelt and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head up. She grimaced in pain as he shook her and snarled, "Cin Vhetin. Where is he?"

"Cin… Cin Vhetin? I don't know-"

He shook her again and tightened his grip on her hair. " _Where_?"

She closed her eyes and panted, "I… don't know any Cin Vhetin."

He stared at her for a long time before releasing her hair. She crumpled into a heap, gasping and watching smoke rise from her body.

For a moment, she thought the man was going to leave her alone. But he flipped his pistol over to lethal force and fired once. A bright red blaster bolt hit her in the boot and her entire left foot erupted into agony. She screamed in agony and clutched at her foot.

"I gave you one chance to come clean," the man murmured, inspecting his pistol. "I know you've worked with Vhetin in the past. Now tell me where he is, or you'll lose all use in your other foot."

She gasped in pain, clenching her teeth. "I… don't rat other hunters out."

"Is that your final answer?"

She rolled onto her back and felt red-hot spikes of pain shooting up her leg. She let out a long breath and said, "It is."

The man shrugged and said, "As you wish."

He raised the pistol and aimed it squarely at her forehead. She stared down the barrel, thinking, _I wonder just how many times I've been in this situation._

She let out a long breath and said, _I just wish I could have seen Cian one more time. So I could put a blaster round through that bitch's forehead._

Then something caught her attention: another shadowy figure that hopped down from the roof of a nearby building. It crept stealthily up behind the man before raising what looked like the angular shape of a blaster rifle.

A tremendous _bam_ rang through the thick, stinking air and Kalyn squeezed her eyes shut, preparing to feel that wash of fire spreading through her chest that meant she had been shot. But she felt nothing. She opened her eyes and saw the man in the helmet sprinting away, holding his shoulder. There were tiny splatters of blood on the street beneath him as he fled.

The other dark figure fired three more shots after him, stepping into the light to reveal angular green-gold battle armor. Kalyn stared at this new being in confusion, noting that the armor was shaped to accommodate the curves of a female body type. The woman squeezed off two more bolts at the fleeing man before turning to Kalyn and surveying her with a sinister-looking T-strip visor that she found all too familiar.

 _A Mandalorian,_ she thought with a grimace. _Well that's just kriffing great. This is just not my lucky day, is it?_

The armored woman took a step forward and held out a hand to her. Kalyn stared at it suspiciously before allowing the Mandalorian to help her up. She cursed as she put weight on her wounded foot and hopped a little to keep it off the ground.

"Are you all right?" the armored woman said. Her voice sounded raspy and gravelly over her helmet's vocoder.

Kalyn nodded, leaning up against a building and cursing. "I'll be fine. Who the hell are you and why did you help me?"

"The name's Kadira. Kadira Sal. I was… _escorting_ some guys who happen to be on the Imperial's-Most-Wanted list to a safe location and was on my way back when I heard blaster shots. You looked like you were in a tight spot, so I decided to help out."

"I could have taken him." Her pride wouldn't allow her to admit that the man had almost killed her, but she knew that if this Mandalorian hadn't interceded, she would have been royally borked.

The armored woman shrugged. "If you say so. Who was that?"

Kalyn stared in the direction the man had disappeared and narrowed her eyes. "I don't know. Someone looking for a friend of mine."

She hesitated, then corrected, "Well, not a friend. More like a guy I hate who seems to keep butting into my life."

The woman didn't reply. She instead looked Kalyn up and down before saying, "You're Kalyn Farnmir, aren't you?"

Kalyn glared at the woman. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Just curious. I heard you were one of the best bounty hunters on Coruscant during the Clone Wars. But no one's heard from you in over a decade."

"You seem to know a lot about me. Thinking about shooting me too?"

The woman laughed, a sound that was just as raspy as her voice. She reached up and pulled off her helmet, revealing a surprisingly young face. The young woman had to be maybe in her twenties. She had long, straight brown hair and a burn scar that started under one eye and stretched down under the neck of her armor. She straightened out her hair, which was tousled from her helmet, and when she spoke, her voice was just as raspy as it had sounded over her helmet's vocoder.

"Not exactly. But it's not every day I run across an old warhorse down here. What were you doing?"

"Hunting down a contract," Kalyn replied. "But it looks like he got away."

"You need help finding him? We could split the bounty fifty-fifty."

Kalyn narrowed her eyes again. "No. But I could use some help tracking someone else down."

"Who?"

"The man that guy was asking me about. Cin Vhetin."

"You know Cin Vhetin?" the woman asked. "I kind of feel sorry for you."

"You know him?"

The woman shook her head. "I've heard enough about him, though. Black armor, bad attitude, crazy fast with melee weapons? That him?"

"That's him."

The woman shook her head. "From what I've heard, the guy is one of the weirdest _Mando'ade_ you could come across. Is it true he never takes off his helmet?"

"You're correct on all fronts," Kalyn muttered.

"So why do you want to find him?"

"If this guy is trying to find Vhetin, then Vhetin knows who he is." She stared in the direction the strange man had fled. She gingerly put weight on her wounded foot. She could probably limp her way back to _Tough Luck_ and her wound wasn't anything a bacta injection couldn't fix in a couple hours.

"I don't care if I have to beat it out of that damn bounty hunter," she muttered, limping down the street, "I'm going to find out who that man was. And why the hell I got wrapped up in all of this."


	3. Tarisian Hospitality

**_Tarisian_ ** **tapcaf, Taris Underworld**

Joren Lang ordered another shot of Onderonian whiskey, resting his forearms on the bar. He tried to ignore the deep, resounding beat of the music that was blasting over the speakers within the tapcaf. His head was pounding from all the booze he'd already consumed, but that didn't stop him from downing his shot in a single swig and ordering another.

Being a fugitive wasn't good on the nerves. And it was even worse when he knew that he probably had bounty hunters on his back by now. He shook his head and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, distracting himself by watching the barely-clothed dancers on stage. He ordered another shot.

The whole mess had been his partner's fault. He and a Hutt, Pogga, had been working a counterfeiting gig down in the underworld. They had made thousands in only weeks and things were starting to look even better for the foreseeable future. Then the Taris Security Force had staged a raid on their facility and that soggy-brained Hutt had sold him out. Within the day Joren had been thrown in prison, left there to rot while Pogga cut a deal and got out within the day.

And then there was that damn bail bondsman, pretending to be so understanding and offering to help him with his problem. He'd offered to be the middleman with Joren's rather pricey bail, spotting him the money so he could get out of prison.

Obviously, Joren hadn't stuck around to see if the judge would find him guilty. He'd taken off almost as soon as he'd passed through the gates of the prison. He hadn't felt guilty for ripping off the bail bondsman; he was sure the man would understand that he had no other choice. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life in prison while the brains of the organization, Pogga, slithered around free as a bird.

One of the first things he'd done after getting out was kill that repulsive backstabber. A smile flickered across his lips as he remembered the shocked look on the Hutt's face as a gobbled down the slimy morsels that Joren had poisoned. The alien had turned a pale turquoise color and slumped over dead in under five minutes. As Joren had emptied out Pogga's hidden safe he found himself wondering if sprinkling salt on a Hutt would make them shrivel up like the slug it really was.

Then he'd taken the money and run for his life, knowing full well that by the end of the day, first-degree murder would be added to his criminal record.

 _So, in all, my life is spiraling down the 'fresher_ , he thought. He ordered another shot of whiskey. _But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself while the peace lasts._

He suddenly sat straighter in his chair as a new dancer made her way onto the stage. A human female with wavy brown hair and dark, sexy eyes. She was wearing a pale blue bikini with see-through drapes hanging down over her smooth, flat stomach. The outfit accentuated her curves while making her look even sexier by keeping some of her body at least somewhat concealed.

She strode to the front of the stage and began slowly dancing to the beat of the music, which had changed to a slower song since Joren had last paid attention. She hugged herself and rubbed her shoulders as if she was cold, moving her hips to the beat. Beings all around the tapcaf began clapping and whistling at her, some of them tossing credit chips up onto the stage. She ignored them all. She trailed her hands up along her face, tousling her wavy hair. Her hips began moving faster as the beat of the music sped up. Joren found himself almost unable to look away as she slid her hands gently down her stomach, trailing her fingers across lightly tanned skin. A sly smile tugged at her lips, which were colored a sexy dark purple from some kind of lipstick.

As the song continued, she raised her hands above her head and slowly moved her hips in a slow, alluring circle. Her dark eyes closed and she seemed to bask in the attention given to her, listening to the voices of multiple beings whistling at her. Every movement she made was lithe and graceful. She stepped toward the edge of the stage, closer to Joren, and stretched her body back, offering him a beautiful view of her toned and shapely body. She straightened out, catching his gaze and winking at him with a grin. He felt a slight surge of excitement at having her dark, sexy gaze looking straight at him, but she quickly turned and moved back to the center of the stage.

The song continued for what seemed like far too short a time and the woman continued to move her body to the beat the entire time. There were scattered boos around the tapcaf as the music came to an end and the woman strode off the stage. A bar employee scampered into the spotlight, scooping up the credits that had been tossed to her during her performance. Then everyone's attention was diverted as more half-naked dancers made their way onto the stage.

Joren's wasn't. He watched the woman as she hopped down off the stage, making her way across the tapcaf in delicate bare feet. Several beings continued to leer at her barely-clothed form, but their attention was mostly drawn to the new dancers.

She stepped up to the bar and nodded to the bartender, who slid her a pale brown drink. She sipped from the glass and leaned up against the bar near Joren. He watched her for a moment, watched the way she leaned against the bar, sensually tracing up and down her calf with the bare toes of her other foot.

 _Hm,_ he thought to himself as he watched her foot rub up and down the smooth skin of her leg. _Maybe being a fugitive isn't such a bad thing after all. Hiding out in the underworld is starting to look pretty good from where I'm sitting._

She seemed to notice his gaze and she looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Show's over, big guy," she said, sipping at her drink again.

"Show's still going as long as you're wearing that outfit," he replied, nodding to the pale blue bikini. She looked down at her attire and chuckled quietly.

"Sorry, but I'm done for the night. I've got my tips from the dance, and I'm heading home in an hour or so."

"Like to make a few extra creds before you do?" he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "How much for a private show?"

She stared at him and narrowed her eyes. A half-smile tugged at her lips. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"It depends on what you think I'm thinking."

She laughed for real this time, a sound that was just as attractive as her body. "Sorry, but I'm going to need another drink before even trying to sort out what that meant."

She paused, then turned that dark gaze on him again. Once again he felt a thrill of excitement pass through him as she leaned close to him, putting her lips close to his ear. Her body smelled of flowery perfume and he inhaled the heady scent.

"Actually…" she whispered in his ear, her voice sending shivers down his spine, "I am feeling kinda lonely tonight. Are you offering to keep me company?"

"It depends," he said again, his voice husky.

She pulled away and smiled seductively. "Playing hard-to-get? All right, I'll play along for now. Depends on what?"

"On whether you'll say yes."

She stared at him for a long time, long enough for him to think she was going to turn him down. Then her beautiful face broke into a wide smile.

Five minutes later they were staggering out the door into a side-alley, kissing passionately. Joren could feel the intoxicating smoothness of her skin under his hands as he rubbed her shoulders. She had her hands around his neck, pressing her body to his as he pushed her against the wall of the tapcaf.

She broke the kiss, breathing hard. She smiled at him and panted, "You're pretty rough. Excited?"

"You have no idea," he said and kissed her neck, inhaling that flowery scent again. She rubbed at his shoulders and back with supple fingers and let out a sigh of contentment. He kissed her on the lips again, hearing her let out a muffled moan. He trailed his fingers down her sides, pushing aside the see-through draperies of her outfit to trace his fingers along her skin. He passed his hand over her belly, moving steadily down.

She broke off the kiss and grabbed his wrist before he could move any lower. "Hey there," she said, "credits first, remember."

He pulled her hands above her head, pinning them against the wall. "I don't think so."

She looked up at his strong hand pinning her arms to the wall before frowning at him. He could feel her heartbeat begin to quicken. Whether it was in excitement or fear, Joren didn't know or care.

"We had a deal-"

"My motto," he said quietly, "is _never pay for something you can take for free_."

The first traces of fear began to show in her dark eyes. He smirked at her and held her against the wall, kissing her neck again as he reached around with his remaining hand and began fiddling with the clasp holding her bikini top on.

She fidgeted. "Look, mister, I didn't sign up for this. I can call building security-"

"Shut up." He tightened his grip on the hands held above her head until she grimaced in pain. He finally succeeded in pulling off the bikini top and he tossed it aside. The woman whimpered slightly in fear as the fingers of his free hand traced slowly back up her side.

Then, suddenly, her whimpering stopped and she sighed slowly. At first he thought she was giving in to him but he froze as she said, "Joren, get your kriffing hands off me before we have to hurt you."

He pulled back and frowned at her. "How do you know my name? And who's _we_?"

She stared at his chest and he followed her gaze. He saw the glowing red dot of a laser sight on his chest. He looked up at the woman with horror and she nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah," she said. "You're busted."

Then she drove her knee into his groin and dove away from him. He doubled over and reached out a hand toward her. Before he could touch her, though, he heard a loud _zap_ and a blue-white stun bolt flashed out of the darkness from a building across the street. It hit him in the side, knocking him onto the ground and sending electricity coursing through his system. He twitched and rolled on the ground, groaning as pain raced through his entire body. Eventually he fell still, breathing hard. The world spun around him and he had time to think _I am completely, totally kriffed_ , before everything faded into the black void of unconsciousness.

Jay stared at the man for a few moments, making sure he was unconscious before grabbing a pair of stun cuffs from a supply pack set against the wall and slapping them across his wrists. Then she covered her chest with her arms, trying to preserve some sense of modesty, and looked around for the bikini top that he had hurriedly tossed aside. She found it on top of a crate and hastily pulled the garment back on. Once she was fully half-dressed again, she turned to the pack and hooked a comm headset into her ear.

"You cut it kind of close, didn't you?"

"I was here the entire time," replied the quiet voice of her partner. "You were never in any real danger."

"I think what you meant to say was, _are you dressed yet? Can I open my eyes?_ "

"If I had my eyes closed, I wouldn't have been able to shoot Joren, now would I?"

"I don't like the fact that I was missing my top and you were still looking through the sniper scope."

"I promise I didn't look. Even if I had, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he replied nonchalantly. "I've worked contracts in strip clubs before."

"Oh?" she said in a mock-surprised voice, raising her eyebrows. "So you're one of those bounty hunters who likes to… mix business with pleasure?"

"Not quite," he said. "Joren isn't exactly what I would call the cream of Tarisian society. This place is exactly the kind of hideout you'd expect him to have."

She pulled her clothes out of a rucksack next to the supply pack, double-checking that everything was there. "I have to agree with you there. But let's make a deal: next time _you_ can play the half-naked hooker."

"I don't think so," he said. "You're the pretty one of our partnership. Besides, you were able to draw the bounty's attention. If I showed up there in a bikini, I don't think I'd be as welcome as you were."

She chuckled as she gathered up her clothes and stepped behind a large duraplast sheet that would give her enough privacy to change. "I have to give you that."

There was a slight hesitation from his end of the comm, then he said, "Sorry to have to put you through that, though."

She shrugged as she slipped out of her dancer's outfit and pulled on her normal underclothes. "It's okay, Cin. Besides, I was the one who said we should opt for a less violent approach. If you'd had your way, we would have just assaulted the tapcaf and forcibly kidnapped Joren. Hell, it was my plan to dress up like this."

He was silent for a time, then he said, "I guess you did seem to enjoy the dancing."

There was a note of teasing humor in his voice, but she still blushed deeply. "You saw that?"

"I did. There was a window in the tapcaf. Where exactly did you learn to dance like that? It's obviously not something they teach in the Navy."

"You aren't the only one with secrets, Vhetin," she said as she pulled up her stiff combat pants. She pulled a sleeveless shirt over her head and continued, "If you must know, I took dancing lessons when I was a kid."

"Not _that_ kind of dancing."

"No. But some of the moves are transferable. The rest I just copied from what I'd seen in holovids."

There was a quiet chuckle over his end of the comm. "Well it worked, so I guess I should congratulate you on a job well done."

She pulled on her jacket and rubbed the lipstick off her lips with a cloth in her pocket. "Thanks. Just don't make me do it again anytime soon."

"I promise. _Mando'ad_ 's honor."

She stepped out from behind the sheet and he quickly said, "Okay, I'm not looking. Are you dressed yet? Can I open my eyes?"

"Yes you can, smartass," she said. She slung her supply pack over her shoulder and hauled Joren to his feet. He muttered something groggily. She half-guided, half-dragged him out onto the street. "I'm heading out to the street. Transmit your location so we can get this pervert loaded up."


	4. The FIght Comes to Keldabe

**Keldabe city spaceport, six hours later**

Vhetin strode down the exit ramp of his ship and took a deep breath. He wished he could inhale the crisp, cold air of Keldabe in autumn, but his helmet's oxygen scrubbers made it so he inhaled nothing but clean, cool, filtered air. It was slightly disappointing, but the tech more than made up for it in situations where enemies tried to poison him with airborne toxins.

The landing pad under his feet was strewn with orange and red leaves, scorched slightly from _Void_ 's engine was as the ship had touched down. They crunched under his boots as he stepped forward to meet the small party ready to welcome them home. Rame, Mia, and Venku were all waiting for them, grimacing against the cold wind that was blowing through the air. He noticed with some disappointment that Brianna was not with them.

"Glad you two are back safe and sound, _vod_ ," Rame said with a grin. "How'd it go?"

"Joren didn't put up much of a fight," Vhetin said, his helmet's 360-degree vision picking up Jay walking down the ramp at a slower pace. She was looking down at her datapad with a smile.

He turned his attention back to Rame and said, "Everything all right here while we were away?"

"All quiet," Mia said. She nodded in greeting as Jay approached and zipped her jacket up tighter. "Rumors are going around that Shysa's thinking about putting together another Supercommando deployment."

Jay grimaced. "I hope not. I had enough of that to last a lifetime."

The mercenary Mandalorian Protectors, colloquially known as the Supercommando army, had been deployed on an Imperial manufacturing planet a few weeks before. Vhetin and Jay had been cut off from friendly forces in the area and forced to work their way through enemy territory on their own. Jay had openly admitted that it had been one of the most stressful times of her life. Vhetin had privately agreed with her.

Together they began heading for the main spaceport, out of the cold. Venku began conversation with Jay as they went.

"So I heard you had a bit of a schmooze with the bounty," he said teasingly.

"It was all in the name of the contract," she replied evenly. "Trust me, it wasn't like I wanted to kiss the guy. He smelled like cheap booze and sweat."

Venku laughed and said, "Well, are you up for a drink at the _Oyu'baat_? Aramis' brew is the best way to relax after a contract."

"I can't," she said. "I'm late as it is."

"Late for what? Got a hot date or something like that?"

"Something like that," she echoed.

Venku's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he grinned. "Ooh, really? A date? With a boy?"

She glared at him and said, "Yes."

He grinned wider. " _Really_? Is he cute?"

"Yes, if you must know," she said "And I'll thank you to stop asking questions."

"As you wish," he said with a wink. "Send the lucky guy my regards, will you?"

"Shut up," she said, a quick smile crossing her face.

Vhetin turned his attention to Rame and said, "How's the farm doing? Jaing and Mereel are helping with the harvest?"

"Like always," he replied. "Jaing keeps running his mouth. He won't shut up for two minutes straight."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Vhetin chuckled. "Have you ever tried keeping his mouth shut with sealing tape?"

"Tried. Couldn't keep him still long enough to get the tape on. And that was with Mereel holding on to him."

"Apart from that, how's the harvest?"

Rame shrugged. "The early frost a couple days ago killed some of the younger grassgrain stalks, but it wasn't too bad. We should have a pretty good harvest this year."

"I'm glad," Vhetin said. "If you guys need any help on the farm, you know where to find me."

"I appreciate the offer, _vod'ika_."

Vhetin hesitated, then quietly said, "Has… has there been any word from Bri?"

Rame shook his head sympathetically. "She hasn't called or showed up at the farm. Sorry, Vhetin. What about you?"

He shook his head and sighed. "Not since the deployment. _Shab_ , two weeks and no word from her? I think I pushed her too far on Tachador."

"Have you tried calling her?"

"Twice. She won't answer my comms."

"What about visiting her personally?" Venku chipped in. He and Jay were listening in on the conversation then. Vhetin couldn't really blame them; his personal life seemed to draw attention wherever he or Brianna went. The last time he'd seen her, in the hangar bay of the Supercommando transport _Hodayc_ , she had slapped his face and stormed off, leaving the rest of the Supercommandos present to stare at him in surprise. The mix of Bri's anger and unwanted attention had humiliated him and he hadn't spoken to anyone, not even Jay, until a few days later.

In answer to Venku's question, he shrugged and said, "I don't know that it would be the best idea to see her right now. I think an apology would just make it worse."

"How would an apology make things worse?" Jay asked, cocking her head.

He shrugged. "She would probably think it was me just trying to get on her good side again. She wouldn't think I meant it."

He fell silent and didn't make any motion that he wanted to continue the conversation. He just stared at the floor as they stepped inside the spaceport.

Venku cleared his throat and said, "So, Jay. Who exactly is this new mystery man you happen to be… romantically involved with?"

"Yeah," Rame agreed. "You haven't mentioned him before. _Mi'ika_ and I are kind of surprised that you wouldn't tell us."

"So now we're going to pick apart _my_ personal life?" she said indignantly. "You guys are as persistent as rock vultures."

She sighed and said, "Firstly, we're not _romantically involved_. We've only been dating for about a month now."

"What's he like?" Mia asked as they rounded a corner. The spaceport was mostly deserted today, with most of the locals busy with harvesting their crops. Mandalore's was predominantly an agricultural economy, so the fall was a very important season among Mandos.

She shrugged. "He's good-looking, smart, funny. A good catch, I think."

"Mando or _aruetii_?"

"What difference does that make?"

"For the gossip circles it makes a lot of difference."

She let out an exasperated laugh. "Fine. He's a Mando."

"Interesting," Venku said, sounding genuinely surprised. "So you're into the whole durasteel-underbritches stuff?"

"Not for myself. But he happens to look good in armor, yes."

Vhetin tuned out of the conversation then, his mind still on Brianna. Something about their current argument was bothering him. Two weeks without a word from her…

They had gone through their rough periods in the past. They'd had fights routinely, usually about once a month. But this seemed different. He worried that he had pushed her too far this time, had made her worry too much.

 _But she's been with me for almost six years_ , Vhetin thought. _She loves me and she knows that how I acted on Tachador is just part of who I am. She understands that, doesn't she?_

He hoped she did, but felt in his heart that this was going to be a different kind of fight. He had seen it in her eyes these past few months; a weariness that wasn't precisely physical. She was tired of running after him and cleaning up the messes he got himself into, tired of comforting him when he was down and receiving the brunt of his depression-induced anger because of it. He couldn't exactly blame her.

Vhetin parted ways with Jay and the rest after they left the spaceport. Jay said that she had to clean herself up for her big date, while Rame and Mia had to get to work on the farm. Venku, having nothing better to do, decided to head out to the _Oyu'baat_ as he had planned and see what was going on around Keldabe.

Vhetin left them with little more than a wave of farewell before he turned down a side street, heading for the central barrier wall of the city. MandalMotors Tower was just beyond it. It was getting close to sunset by the time he passed the Imperial checkpoint at the third wall and most of the streets were empty. Vhetin enjoyed the peace and quiet; it gave him time to think and reflect over what he'd do to make things up with Bri.

He remembered her words while they had been arguing in the _Hodayc_ 's hangar bay two weeks before. The words seem to echo back to him in the air as he turned down another empty street. He absently watched the shadows lengthen on the ground beneath his feet as he walked.

 _I am sick of your prancing about like you're some lonely, misunderstood warrior,_ she had said. _I am sick of trying to help you and comfort you while you give me nothing in return but misery and worry. And you know what? I'm sick of_ you _._

No argument they had had to date had produced such heated words from either of them. He needed to talk to her, soon. Venku was right. If he didn't talk to her and apologize for his actions, he was liable to make things even worse.

 _As soon as I'm done resupplying and catching up here in Keldabe,_ he decided, _I'm going to go see her_.

He had to do a few things first, mainly restock on weapons and inquire as to how the hunting industry had changed while he'd been away. He had heard that Ume'o had something to talk to him about up at MandalMotors and after he was finished, he could go see Brianna. He hoped she could forgive him.

In his heart, he knew she would. His actions were inexcusable, but as long as he admitted that and openly regretted what he had done, she would forgive him.

She had said so, a year or so into their relationship. Her exact words were, _I want you to know, Cin, that no matter what you do, no matter how deep in the_ osik _you are, I'll always be there for you._

She had kept her promise so far. It was one of the few things in his life he could count on. No matter how dark things got, she was always there for him.

And she always would be.

He turned a corner and watched the colossal red cylinder of MandalMotors Tower come into sight. He watched the sun slowly sink behind the skyscraper. The street he was walking down was thrown into shadow, the night approaching before his eyes.

 _Probably should step up the pace,_ he thought. _Keldabe can get freaky at night and I don't want to be late to talk to Briann-_

He suddenly clapped his hands over his helmet's audio receptors and shouted in pain. An earsplitting screech pierced the air, so loud it seemed to rip his head in two. He fell to his knees, his face screwed up in agony.

 _What the_ shab _?_ he thought, his eyes watering as the piercing whine grew louder and louder. The pain in his head intensified, numbing almost all other sounds. His mind felt foggy as the tone continued to stream in over his helmet's internal audio receptors. Then a voice broke in over the noise.

"Funny thing," it said with a triumphant tone. "When I was first given the assignment to bring you in, I thought, _how to bring down a being who is stronger, faster, and mysteriously superior to virtually any other human in existence?_ "

A figure stepped into Vhetin's vision, which was cloudy and watering from the throbbing pain that was ripping itself through his head. He fell forward, sprawling on the ground as he writhed in torment. The high-pitched whine didn't let up, if anything growing louder as he lay there.

The figure knelt in front of Vhetin, cocking a head that was covered by a metallic helmet. Cold blue eyes shone out from two eye-shaped apertures in the helmet's faceplate.

"So I was thinking of some kind of augmented sense you have that I could exploit and you know what I came up with?"

He pulled out a cylindrical device from the pocket of his long trenchcoat.

" _Bingo_ ," he said triumphantly. "Imperial R-and-D worked this up for me. Know what it is?"

Vhetin groaned and rolled over onto his back, clutching at his head. He arched his back and screamed inside the confines of his helmet. The sound didn't reach the outside world, though; to any passerby, he would just look like he was rolling around on the ground. Anyone on a nearby street wouldn't know anything was happening.

The man stared at him and cocked his head. "I didn't think you'd know; it's a little after your time with the Imps. This is a sonic incapacitator, originally designed as a non-lethal solution to a minor Sullustan rebellion a few years ago."

The man looked at the device through his helmet faceplate, turning it between his fingers. "It emits a high-frequency whine that's kriffing _agony_ for beings with more powerful hearing than human beings. Now, it doesn't do anything to me; the squeal it makes is beyond the normal human hearing range. But for someone _special_ like you, Vhetin…"

He stared at Vhetin unsympathetically as he rolled on the ground, clutching at his head.

"Well," he said quietly, "I think you get the idea."

He clicked off the device and Vhetin gasped as the agonizing tone from the incapacitator ceased. He ripped his helmet off and sucked in a breath of cold autumn air. His eyes watered as he struggled to sit up.

"Oh, don't strain yourself on my account," the man said, putting a hand on Vhetin's chest plates and shoving him roughly back down. Vhetin, weakened by the incapacitator's scream, couldn't summon the strength to avoid falling onto his back again.

The man rested his forearms on his knees and watched Vhetin closely.

"You know why I'm here."

"I… do," Vhetin gasped.

"Good. Then you'll know that I'm not just going to run away and go into hiding even if you somehow manage to miraculously turn the tables on me in that way you do."

"K-kriff… you."

The man threw his masked head back and laughed. The sound echoed slightly from within his helmet. "Even now you have spirit. I admire that. But I'm seriously not going to let you go. Lord Vader is very insistent about your capture and you know that if he's unhappy it makes my life a living hell."

Vhetin gritted his teeth before clenching a fist and gathering up the strength to punch at him. The armored man easily dodged the blow and his hands erupted into a blur. In a matter of moments he grabbed Vhetin's arm, twisted it around, and slammed the elbow of his other arm into the unarmored small of Vhetin's back. Vhetin cried out in pain and fell face down on the duracrete, his arm twisted painfully behind his back. The masked man clicked on the incapacitator again and Vhetin screamed and struggled frantically as another blast of sound ripped through his head.

"I'm disappointed in you," the man sighed. He reached over and tapped the incapacitator against the back of Vhetin's head. "Can't you get it through your thick Mando skull that as long as I have this thing on, you can't fight back? Fierfek, you really are dim, aren't you?"

He shook his head and clicked off the incapacitator. "You're coming with me now. I'm taking you to Vader and if you do anything to try and fight back I'll click this little bastard on full blast. Your head would probably explode like a melon."

He gestured with one hand, tucking the incapacitator back into his pocket with the other. "Now be a good boy and stay still so I can cuff you."

"I'm… not going anywhere."

The helmeted man sighed and reached back into his pocket. "Now you're just asking for it..."

Before he could turn the device on, however, a voice further down the street said, "Hey? What the _shab_ is goin' on down there?"

The man instantly drew a pistol from the inside of his long coat and opened fire at the speaker, a red-armored Mandalorian striding toward them from further down the street. The Mando cursed and ducked, drawing his own pistol and returning fire. Brightly colored blaster bolts shot through the air and ricocheted off buildings. The high-pitched _snap_ of blaster fire wreaked havoc with Vhetin's hearing and he clapped his hands over his ears again.

The helmeted man cursed and turned to Vhetin as he took cover behind the corner of a building.

"This isn't over, Vhetin," he growled, narrowing his pale blue eyes. "I'll be seeing you again real soon."

Then he pulled some kind of grapple gun from his trench coat and fired it up into the air. The weapon's whipcord shot up into the air before embedding itself into the edge of the building's roof. The gun hoisted the man into the air and out of sight over the rooftop.

The red-armored Mando sprinted forward, aiming at the spot where Vhetin's assailant had disappeared. Vhetin took advantage of the man's distraction to scramble after his black-gray helmet and shove it over his head. The bright flash of light as his HUD booted up again hurt his eyes, but he squinted against it. The slight pain, after all, was blessed release after the agony of the incapacitator. His ears were still ringing, as if something had exploded right next to his head. It was disconcerting, but thankfully no longer unbearable.

He quickly rolled over onto his stomach and crawled a few feet forward. He balled up his fist and slammed it down on the incapacitator, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

The red Mando finally turned to Vhetin and offered him a hand.

"You all right, _vod_?" he asked. His voice was muffled by the ringing in Vhetin's ears. "That _chakaar_ looked like he had you in a tight spot."

Vhetin coughed, head pounding, and accepted the man's offered hand. He was hoisted up to his feet. "He did. Thanks for helping me out."

" _Ba'gedet'ye, vod_ ," the man said. "Want me to comm an ambulance? You look like you could use it."

Vhetin shook his head, leaning his back against a nearby halolamp post. Head spinning, he made a hand sign that translated to, _I'm fine, move on_. The Mando nodded and said, " _K'oyacyi, vod_. Watch your back; you look like you may be in trouble."

Vhetin shook his head as he pulled a comlink from his belt and tapped in a calling code.

 _You have no idea_ , he thought.

~~~~~~~~

**_Starlight_ ** **Restaurant, Keldabe, Mandalore**

Jay stood in the female 'fresher of the _Starlight_ restaurant, studying herself in the mirror over the washbasin. She was struggling with her appearance, wondering whether it was fitting for her dinner date. It was especially important to her considering that the man she was going out with was a Mando. They were known for their austere mentalities and their harsh criticism of luxury. And that had never been more apparent than this evening.

Earlier in the day she had bought a dress especially for her date: a simple black garment with a matching necklace and bracelet made of some kind of polished black rock. She had thought the dress wouldn't look out of place at the _Starlight_ , which she had heard was the most romantic, respectable restaurant in all of Keldabe.

But when she'd shown up, she'd found that three-quarters of the restaurant goers were dressed in full armor! And to make things worse, her _date_ had shown up in full armor as well.

They had laughed at first and joked that maybe a dress code wasn't such a bad idea for their dates, but inside Jay was panicking. She didn't want him to think she was over-obsessed with her appearance, but if she had shown up in her normal attire would he have thought she wasn't taking the date seriously?

She shook her head and splashed some cold water on her face. _Fierfek I'm bad at this whole dating thing,_ she thought. _Maybe it's too early to be looking around for a boyfriend._

Still, she wasn't about to give up now. She genuinely enjoyed the man she was sharing dinner with, and she truly hoped the date would go well. She would just have to swallow her embarrassment at being overdressed and get on with her night.

She was about to head back into the restaurant when she heard a quiet tone from her purse, which was sitting on the rim of the washbasin. She frowned and pulled out her comlink, which was displaying a familiar comm number.

 _Great_ , she thought. _This is just what I need right now._

She answered the comm and snapped, "Vhetin, you'd better be either dead or dying. I told you I was going to be busy tonight."

His voice was strangely hoarse as he said, "Jay, I'm sorry for interrupting your date, but I need your help."

Something in his voice made her pause. "What? What's wrong?"

"Someone attacked me while I was heading to MandalMotors," he said. He hesitated and she could hear him cursing in the background. "Damn, I can barely hear a thing-"

"Wait a second, you were _attacked?_ " she said. "By who?"

There was a slight pause from his end of the comm, then he replied, "I don't know."

She frowned deeper and said, "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to get to my location," he said. "If someone is on my trail because of some hunting contract kriff-up, it's likely they're watching you as well. We need to regroup and see what we can find out."

She glanced at the door to the 'fresher, thinking about the man waiting for her in the restaurant outside. "Cin, I'm in the middle of my date. It's the first time I've seen this guy in a week."

"And I'm sorry for dragging you away. But are you prepared for an armed siege?"

She looked down at her dress. She didn't have any of her weapons on her and her current attire would be as helpful as being dressed in tissue paper if she was caught in a firefight.

"Okay," she sighed. "I'll try to explain to him why I'm backing out early. Where are you?"

"About a half-mile southwest of MandalMotors," he replied. "Near a shop called… Real Commando Re-Supply? You know it?"

She said she did. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. I need to change into my normal gear and then I'll be right there."

"I'll be waiting," he said. "Be careful."

"You too."

She clicked off the comm, then sighed and thought, _Good thing this isn't a first date, otherwise this relationship would be over before it had even begun._

Then she grabbed her purse and strode back out into the restaurant. Her date was waiting for her at their table, politely waiting for her to return before eating. Their dinners had arrived in the time since she had left, and Jay's stomach rumbled quietly at the smells that wafted toward her from their table.

"Something wrong?" her date asked as she approached, frowning at her expression.

She sighed and said, "I'm really sorry, but I have to leave. It's kind of an emergency. I am so sorry about this."

"Don't worry about it if it's an emergency," he said, standing and walking her to the door. "Do you need any help? I could get a taxi for you."

She smiled, touched by his generosity. "That's sweet, but I'll be fine."

"Okay," he said. "Be careful, all right?"

She was about to agree when he kissed her gently on the lips. She kissed him back, enjoying the intimate moment while it lasted. After a few seconds that seemed far too short, she put a hand on his chest plates and pushed him back. She smiled at him. "Thanks for offering to take me to dinner. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"According to local Mando tradition," he said with a slight grin, "it has to be anywhere but the _Oyu'baat_."

"Okay. I'll call you when I've found a good place and time."

He nodded. "I'll be waiting."

She kissed him again quickly, then turned and strode out the door. As soon as she stepped outside, the cold autumn air whipped at her hair and stung at her skin. She cursed her stupidity at not bringing a coat; it had been much warmer when she had arrived at the restaurant.

The sun had set completely now and overhead halolamps had automatically switched on, shedding gold-colored light onto the street. Red-orange leaves rustled quietly under her feet, shuffled about by the wind. Mandalore's moon, Concordia, was shining a bright yellowish color in the night sky, partially obscured by dark clouds.

It took her a few moments to regain her sense of direction, then she set off in the direction of her apartment. It was a brisk ten-minute walk through the cold, dark streets of the city before she reached her apartment building, and she didn't think she'd been happier to see her apartment.

Vhetin's call had disturbed her. Who would attack a fully armored Mandalorian in _Keldabe_? The attacker was either very brave or very stupid – or both. And how had the guy even managed to get the drop on her partner? Vhetin had his 360-degree HUD vision and when added to his enhanced senses and reflexes and his touch of paranoia, it made it almost impossible to sneak up on him.

She shuddered slightly as she opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside. She could easily recall the time she had had a stalker of her own, a traditionalist Mandalorian psychopath known as Xac Suirotnoc. The Mando and his gang had made Jay's life a living hell for days before she and her friends had turned the tables on them. She remembered the helpless, frantic fear of knowing that somewhere out there someone was plotting to kill her, but not knowing who or where that person was.

The thought of someone making Vhetin just as uncomfortable was not an amusing thought.

She quickly changed into her normal clothes: durable work boots, a pair of rough work pants, a practical sleeveless shirt, and a resilient black armorleather jacket over that. She also grabbed her pistol, holstered it on her belt, and slipped her vibroblade down her left boot. Once satisfied she wasn't forgetting anything, she quickly left her apartment and locked the door behind her.

She called Vhetin again once she was outside and told him to guide her to his location. She had passed the Real Commando Re-Supply, but didn't know its exact location. It was about twenty minutes before she turned a corner and found him sitting on the sidewalk, helmeted head cradled in his hands.

"There you are," she sighed. "Are you all right?"

He flinched visibly and held up a hand. "Quieter, please. My head is killing me."

"What happened?"

He shook his head. "Some _aruetii di'kut_ jumped me while I was walking down the street."

"How did he manage to do that?"

He groaned and gestured toward the shattered remains of some kind of mechanical device lying in the street. Jay walked over to the shards of plastoid and nudged them with the tip of her boot, seeing nothing familiar. She glanced to Vhetin for an explanation.

"It was some kind of sonic transmitter," he said. "It let out this damn whining noise that completely incapacitated me."

"Non-lethal capture measures," she murmured, turning back to the remains of the device. "So he wanted you alive."

"Yeah, he said as much."

"What did he want?"

Vhetin shook his head. "I don't know."

"Did you get a good look at him?" she asked.

"He was wearing some kind of trench coat and had this crude-looking helmet. More like a facemask that wrapped around his entire head."

She frowned. "So he was purposely concealing his identity. Who would do that? Besides a Mandalorian, I mean."

"This guy was definitely not a Mando. The only reason he didn't catch me was because a _Mando'ad_ showed up before he could clap stun cuffs on me. The guy opened fire at the Mando and took off a few seconds later."

"Where'd he go?"

Vhetin pointed to the roof of the building across the street. "Shot up some kind of gas-powered grapple and disappeared."

She shook her head and let out a low whistle. "I've got to hand it to you, Cin. You've really managed to piss someone off this time."

He chuckled, then winced again. "Tell me about it."

"So how do you propose we find him?"

"I don't know that we can," he said, slowly rising to his feet. His black-gray armor seemed to blend in with the shadows around him and all she could see were the dim highlights a nearby light shed on the dull surface of his helmet dome. His belt-skirt fluttered gently in the breeze. "He disappeared almost half an hour ago. He's not leaving footprints and he's going to try to remain covert."

She thought over that for a moment, then suddenly clapped her hands and said "Got it!"

She quickly apologized when Vhetin let out a small moan and clutched at his head. She lowered her voice and said, "You said the guy took off in that direction?"

He nodded and she continued, "Well? What's in that direction?"

"There's a weapon's shop, a mechanic store, a small market, and…"

He paused, then slowly finished, "The _Oyu'baat_."

She grinned. "Exactly. And we're talking about the _Oyu'baat_ at dinnertime. Aramis would be lucky if he had as few as sixty Mandos there."

"You think someone saw him?" Vhetin grunted.

"I'm thinking there's one person who hangs around the _Oyu'baat_ who would have heard about some mad _aruetii_ jumping from rooftop to rooftop," she said. "And if we're lucky, he may still be there."


	5. Everyone Wants to Hit Vhetin

"Jay? What're you doing here so early on in the night? Aren't you supposed to be on some big important date?"

"Complications cut the night short, I'm afraid," Jay said, sliding into a booth across from Venku.

He shifted his multi-colored helmet to one side of the table and turned his gaze on Vhetin, who was still wincing at the loud sounds of the _Oyu'baat_ in the middle of suppertime rush.

"What's wrong with you, _vod?_ You look like someone just steamrolled over your forehead."

"It feels like it," Vhetin grumbled, sliding into the booth as well. He turned down his helmet's internal audio receptors with a blink of his eyes and said, "We need your help."

He settled his gauntleted arms behind his head and said, "Name it."

Jay glanced at Vhetin and said, "Cin was attacked earlier. We don't know who it was or what they wanted."

Venku raised an eyebrow. "The guy must have been some tough barve to get the jump on you, Vhetin."

"He used a sonic incapacitator," Vhetin explained. "Almost knocked me out in seconds."

Venku shook his head sympathetically. "I've heard those are some of the nastiest non-lethal tech pieces you can get your hands on. But I heard they only work on beings with more sensitive hearing than humans. For you or me it would just buzz quietly. Why did it affect you?"

"It's a long story," Vhetin growled, "and one I'm not in the mood to explain."

"Hm. So what do you need me for?"

"We think the guy may have come through this area and we were hoping someone here may have seen him."

Venku frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't see anything. Why would he stand out?"

"He would have been jumping across rooftops."

"A roof-hopping _aruetii_? Now that would definitely make some _Mando'ade_ pay attention, no matter how much of Aramis' booze they've chugged down. I'll see what I can dig up."

Vhetin moved to stand, but Venku spoke again. "Do you know what this guy wants?"

"No. He didn't say."

"Then you two be extra careful," he warned. "This guy failed to bring you in once already. He may stop with the non-lethal measures in order to just kill you and be done with it."

He was staring at Jay in particular as he said, "This isn't like your previous contracts. This guy has attacked you on your home turf and that means he's a new kind of crazy."

He shook his head and stood from his seat. "You guys need to catch this guy and catch him fast. And from now on, don't go anywhere familiar or else he may track you back to your homes. Vhetin, I think you're in the clear since no one knows where you live."

Jay sighed and said, "I'm getting flashbacks to Suirotnoc and his gang."

"It's very similar to that," Venku said as he stepped toward the crowd of tapcaf customers. "This guy has proven that he's resourceful, well-armed, and has done his homework on Vhetin at least. You two should be exercising extreme caution."

"Thanks for the advice, Venku," Vhetin said. "We'll be careful. Just see if anyone saw this guy running around."

"Will do," Venku said and disappeared into the crowd.

Vhetin watched him go, then scowled behind his helmet and said, "Let's head outside and see if we can't get some peace and quiet. All this noise is killing my head."

They fought their way through the crowd to the outside. Vhetin let out a deep breath, relieved at the silence. He wished he could pull his helmet off and let the cold air soothe his pounding head. But he wasn't about to do that with Jay standing right next to him.

"So what do you think is going on?" she asked, tucking her hands into her pockets. She grimaced against the cold breeze.

"My guess is that we accidentally crossed someone on our last hunt and they tracked us back to Mandalore."

"Our last contract was for a scumbag bail jumper."

"Well maybe it wasn't our last contract but something before."

"Maybe the Trandos are trying to get back at us? Our presence on Tachador wasn't exactly inconspicuous."

"It's not out of the question," he admitted, "but I'm pretty sure the guy was human."

He turned his gaze to watch a pair of figures making their way through the dark toward the warm, inviting lights of the _Oyu'baat_. He scowled and muttered, "Until we find out just who this guy is, I'm not trusting anybody."

"Not even me?" Jay asked with a smile. "This guy knew exactly what your weaknesses are. Your partner of almost a year would know that about you."

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't you in that trench coat and facemask, Jay. If it was, though, you'd manage to surprise even me."

Suddenly one of the figures passing them grabbed Vhetin by the shoulders and yanked him forward. He was about to fight back when he heard a sharp _clack_ and he felt the cylindrical barrel of a blaster pistol pressed against his stomach.

"I've come a long way to find you, kriffer," a furious voice snarled.

Vhetin moved to attack. Before he could, he heard a deafening _pow_ and it felt like a rancor had punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, clutching at his stomach plate. He gasped, all breath knocked out of him. His vision swam and his head spun. Through watering eyes, he saw Jay draw her pistol and aim it at his attacker's head.

"Drop the weapon," she snapped. " _Now_!"

"I'm not dropping the weapon until the bucket-head starts talking," said the dark figure in a voice that was unmistakably female. And unmistakably familiar.

Vhetin looked up in surprise and gasped, "Farnmir?"

The figure pulled a black facemask from over her head, revealing her short blond hair and blue eyes that were blazing with fury. She cocked her fist back and punched him in the stomach plate, hard enough to make him double over again. She let out an exclamation of pain as well and cradled her hand.

"Damn your armor," she muttered, rubbing her bruised knuckles.

"What do you want, Farnmir?" He coughed and thought, _kark it all, it's like every one of my enemies are coming down on my_ shebs _all at once._

"I want to know just what the _hell_ you got me wrapped up in," Kalyn snapped, shoving Vhetin's chest. He staggered a few steps back, almost losing his balance.

"What are you talking about?"

"You! Kriffing _jackass_!"

The second figure, a tall Mandalorian woman, stepped into the light and quietly said, "Farnmir, how 'bout you calm down and start from the beginning? It's obvious these two have no idea what you're talking about."

Kalyn took a deep breath and glared at Vhetin. She just stared at him for a few moments before saying, "Yesterday I was working a contract in the Coruscant Underworld. I had the guy at gunpoint when some kriffer jumped me and shot me in the fierfeking _foot_!"

Jay glanced at Vhetin worriedly. "What did he want?"

"Strangely enough, he wanted to know where _you_ were, Vhetin," Kalyn snarled, narrowing her eyes. "He took off when the Mando here jumped in and chased him off."

The armored woman held out a hand to Vhetin. "Kadira Sal," she introduced herself.

"The smuggler," Vhetin replied, shaking her hand. "I've heard of you."

The woman's helmet was clipped to her belt and Vhetin studied her closely. If he had to guess, he'd say she was maybe in her early twenties, close to his age. She had long brown hair, pale gray eyes, and a long scar down one side of her face. She had various weapons stashed about her green-gold armor and Vhetin could see a vibrosword sheathed across her back – an unconventional choice for a Mandalorian with heavy, cumbersome battle armor. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and raspy, as if she had damaged her vocal cords long ago.

"And how did you get involved in all this?" he asked.

"I had been hired to transport some Imperial fugitives to a safe area," she explained. "I was on my way back when I heard blaster fire and decided to investigate. When I found Farnmir, here, I thought she was being mugged."

"What did the attacker look like?" Jay inquired.

Kadira shrugged. "Not sure. He had some kind of trench coat and a weird facemask."

Vhetin narrowed his eyes behind his helmet faceplate. "And when did you get here to Mandalore?"

"Last night," Farnmir growled. "It took me a while to track you two down."

Vhetin sighed and shook his head in disbelief. Jay turned to her partner and said, "Well now we know how he was able to track you down, Cin."

"What?"

She turned to Kalyn and said, "This guy must have followed you here. Vhetin was attacked himself about an hour ago."

"It serves you right," Kalyn grumbled. "Did you manage to kill him?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're an incompetent fierfek who is always dragging me into stuff that threatens my life."

"Well thank you. Of all the things I needed today, you insulting me was at the very top of my list, _aruetii_."

"Okay," Jay said, stepping between the two. "Let's calm down, everybody. The fact is that this guy attacked Kalyn, followed her here to Mandalore, then attacked Vhetin. He's still here somewhere. Instead of trying to kill each other, how about we try and find him?"

She turned to Vhetin and looked at him expectantly. He nodded and said, "That sounds like a plan to me."

She turned to Kalyn and said, "Farnmir, I'm sure Vhetin didn't want you to be attacked-"

"Though I kind of wish he'd shot her in the hand to keep her from shooting other people," Vhetin muttered, rubbing his scorched stomach plate.

Jay motioned for him to shut up. "Kalyn, we're sorry this guy went at you. But we have about as much info on this guy as you do. We don't know who he is or what he wants with Vhetin. So if you'll just give us time to work it out, we'll make sure you can have your fair share of payback. Deal?"

Farnmir stared at Jay for a long time before cursing and nodding. "I guess. But if he comes after me again, I'm going to kill him, quickly followed by your bucket-head friend."

Then she stalked off into the tapcaf, muttering, "I need a drink."

Jay stared after her, watching until she had disappeared inside, before letting out a long breath.

"Nice work, Jay," Vhetin said, impressed. "It takes some serious _mirshko_ to stand up to Farnmir when she's got a gun."

"I agree," Kadira said with an approving nod. "Have you always been borderline suicidal?"

Jay laughed. "I was raised on Corellia. We're known for acting before thinking."

"Another Corellian native?" Kadira said with the hint of a smile. "Finally. You don't run across many of them in the bounty hunting world. At least not in the circles I travel in."

"You're Corellian?"

"And proud of it," she said, gesturing to her pant leg. Vhetin could just make out the series of horizontal dashes that made up a Corellian Bloodstripe, an award for outstanding service in the Corellian military. It was not an easy award to earn.

Jay was obviously impressed. She grinned at Kadira and said, "When were you last home?"

"Just a couple months ago."

"Great. Let's head inside and you can tell me all about it. I've missed seeing the forests and the lakes near where I used to live."

"Me too," Kadira said as they both headed for the door. "Mandalore's scenery is beautiful, but it just isn't the same."

The two entered the tapcaf as well, leaving Vhetin standing alone in the dark. He remained there, lost in his own thoughts for a long time.

 _So_ _…_ he thought. _The Tracker's finally caught up to me. I'm not surprised._

In his previous encounters with the helmeted man, Vhetin had found the Tracker to be resourceful, cunning, and above all, cruel. The man was the living embodiment of Imperial Law Enforcement; if he was ordered to bring someone in, he'd fulfill his order no matter what. Vhetin recalled the man being reprimanded several times for killing his targets.

 _And now he wants my head_. _And all because of this Project Whiteclaw_.

He shook his head and stared up at the dark sky and the stars that shone brightly through patches of dark cloud. He was starting to get a little sick of hearing about Whiteclaw. It had been difficult to keep Jay in the dark about what was really going on, but it really wasn't any of her business. It was his problem and he would deal with it accordingly.

It gnawed it his conscience that he was keeping things from Jay. His current relationship with Brianna was good evidence that withholding information from friends was the quickest way to turn them into _former_ friends. But he had no other choice. It wasn't like he could just say, _Hey there, Jay. Sorry to break this to you but virtually everything I've told you over the past year has just been to hide the truth about me_. _I just didn't really trust you and I wanted to come clean with this before the Tracker – who I've known about for a lot longer than the last couple hours – tracks me down and kidnaps me._

He sighed. Maybe once he straightened things out with Brianna he'd ask her what she thought about this. She would probably advise the same thing his conscience was telling him: tell his partner everything, including his past, the truth about what he really was, and why the Empire was so interested in him.

But he wasn't about to do that. Not now and maybe not ever. Jay would probably be happier not knowing.

 _Except in this situation,_ he thought with a scowl, _what she doesn't know_ can _kill her. And it probably will._

He heard the door of the _Oyu'baat_ swing open behind him and he saw Venku waiting for him. He jerked his head and said, "Come on in out of the cold, Vhetin. I've got some info on this crazy _aruetii_ who's following you."

Vhetin nodded and followed the multi-colored Mandalorian back into the tapcaf. He was instantly engulfed in the warm air and laughter that filled the tapcaf. He couldn't smell the delicious aromas of cooking dinner. He had never smelled it, as he had never once taken off his helmet in the cantina, which constantly had at least ten Mandos present. It was one of the many things he regretted about his personality, but his discomfort with leaving his helmet off in public outweighed his desire to laugh and joke with his fellow _vode_.

"What did you find out?" Vhetin said as he and Venku slid into a booth in one of the quieter corners of the tapcaf's main room. "Anything concrete?"

Venku shook his head. One of Aramis' waiters moved up to take their order, but Venku respectfully declined. "But something you might find interesting all the same. Apparently some of the _vode_ here saw your guy, jumping across the rooftops of a couple buildings outside the plaza. Most of 'em wrote it off as a drunken hallucination, but it was apparently a memorable enough hallucination for them to remember it."

"What direction was he headed?"

"East. That means he was either heading to MandalMotors Tower-"

"Unlikely," Vhetin sighed.

"-or the city spaceport. It's on the other side of the city, but it's the more likely choice."

Vhetin nodded. "I agree. But I know the city better than this guy does. He may know where the spaceport is, but I know the quickest ways to get there."

"He has a healthy head start," Venku pointed out.

"I can catch him," Vhetin said. "It's what I do."

" _Oya_ , then. You should probably grab Jay before we head out."

Vhetin narrowed his eyes. " _We_?"

Venku shrugged. "Jay's my friend. If this guy is after the both of you, she's in danger. And you've pretty much proven that you're not prepared to take this _aruetii_ down. And I'll be honest; that scares the holy _osik_ out of me."

He stood and pulled his gray-red helmet over his head. "So I've decided," he said, his voice sounding gravelly and threatening over his helmet's vocoder, "that one crazy Mando isn't enough. I'm comin' with you."

"You sure?" Vhetin said, standing as well. "I'm sure Darman would have a problem with this."

"My dad'll get over himself."

"You're also younger than most typical bounty hunters."

" _Mando'ade_ are adults at thirteen," he said. "By that count, I've been an adult for years now."

Vhetin shrugged. "I know you can hold your own in a firefight, so I don't see the problem in letting you tag along. I get the feeling I can use any help I can get."

"And what about that attractive blond who came in with you? The trigger-happy one who looked like she was going to single-handedly fight the entirety of the _Oyu'baat_?"

"She'll be staying here," Vhetin said darkly. "She's too…"

"Violent?"

"-violent," he agreed. "She's just as likely to shoot me as the guy we're tracking."

Venku nodded and said, "I'll get Jay. I'll see if I can get Kadira to tag along as well. I mean, as long as you need all the help you can get…"

"Do it. I'm ready to go as soon as you guys are."

"I'll meet you out front in five minutes," Venku said. "Try not to get ambushed while you're waiting."

~~~~~~~~

Jay chuckled. "Farnmir didn't like being left behind. I expected the entirety of the Keldabe Enforcement Office to come down to the _Oyu'baat_ and forcibly remove her."

"They leave the drunkards of the _Oyu'baat_ to Aramis and his kitchen crew," Venku said. "The tapcaf has so many inebriated customers that the Enforcement Office would be hanging out at the _Oyu'baat_ most of the day."

He frowned and said, "Although it's not like they don't already spend most of their time there."

" _Everyone_ spends most of their time there," Jay said. "That's why it's called the Crossroads of Keldabe."

"Good point. Either way, they aren't about to cart their gold-armored _shebs_ down to the _Oyu'baat_ just because blond-and-belligerent decided to pick a fight."

"Quiet," Vhetin said. He was walking ahead of their small group with Kadira. "We're getting close to the spaceport. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut."

Jay frowned, surprised by his harsh tone. She frowned at her partner and thought, _Something about Cin seems_ _… off. He seems agitated. I wonder what it's about?_

Vhetin always seemed angry these days. It almost seemed like his argument with Brianna had robbed him of the last of his patience for anything but hunting contracts. During any off time he had, he seemed to be tense and irritated. One time Jay had been talking with him, only a few days after the Supercommando deployment, he had said, " _When someone gives me something to be happy about I smile and laugh like everyone else. But right now I don't see anything to be happy about. It's not rocket science, Jay._ "

She almost hoped that her partner could fix things with Brianna. It was clear that the two truly cared about each other. Mandalorians were very serious about family relationships. Vhetin and Brianna had been dating for almost seven years and it was obvious that the tension between the two was ripping her partner apart.

Right now he was talking quietly with Kadira, trying to figure out how they'd catch his mysterious attacker. They were walking slightly ahead of Jay and Venku, making their way down a narrow street lined on both sides with rundown, grubby-looking buildings. Trash littered the sidewalks and there was a dank smell wafting through the area, like the nauseating stench of wet Strill. Jay had gotten used to the rampant poverty of Mandalore, though it was still depressing to look at.

"What if he's already passed through?" Kadira asked in her quiet, raspy voice. "He's got at least an hour's head start. He could be on a transport headed for the other end of the galaxy by now."

"Then we'll look through the spaceport's security footage," Vhetin said. "We'll do whatever it takes to find this guy."

"You're serious about catching him, aren't you?" Sal said.

"I'm always serious," he replied evenly. "But this is personal. This guy attacked me on Mandalore, my home. I want to find out why he did it and who he's working for."

"And you're sure you've never seen the guy before?"

Vhetin quickly shook his head. "I would have remembered someone as weird as him."

Kadira shook her head. "That's what doesn't make sense. Attacks like this aren't random. He has to have a reason for attacking you, which makes me think you may have run across him in the past."

"Look," Vhetin sighed, "I'm telling you, I've never seen him before. I was the one who was attacked. Don't you think him kicking my _shebs_ would jog my memory a bit?"

"Okay, okay," Kadira said, holding her hands up in surrender. "Excuse me for trying to help out."

"Look," he said, voice tense, "all we need to do is find this _chakaar_ , subdue him, and he'll give us all the answers we need."

Jay sped up and fell into step on Vhetin's other side. She nudged his arm and murmured, "Hey… are you all right? You seem a little tense."

"I don't need all this right now," he muttered. "I've got more important things to worry about than some crazy _aruetii_ trying to kill me."

"But he almost succeeded. Doesn't that scare you?"

"I'm not scared of him. If anything, I respect his resourcefulness and cunning. Not many _aruetiise_ can sneak into Keldabe and attack a Mandalorian in broad daylight."

She nodded. "Okay… but if there's anything you need-"

"Thanks, Jay."

"I mean it. You know, even if you need to talk I'm here for-"

"I know. Thank you Jay. I'll be sure to take you up on that if I need it."

She quickly fell silent, hurt by his curt tone. _I was trying to help_ , she thought with a scowl. _What's wrong with him, that he can't even see that?_

She told herself to calm down. It was no wonder that he was stressed; he had barely survived an ambush in his home town. Only hours later he had been shot point-blank in the stomach by a woman with the temper of a rancor. She couldn't blame him if he was a little touchy.

Still, she was his partner. To her knowledge, she was the closest friend the black-armored Mandalorian had. He had to know by now that she would help him through this. He had to know, after all they'd done together, that she wouldn't just brush him off.

 _He does know that,_ she thought. _Hell, he's said so in the past. So cut him some slack._

She turned her thoughts to the problem of Vhetin's attacker. The man had disappeared while heading toward a sector of the city with nothing helpful to a retreating assassin but the city spaceport. There probably weren't any shops or contacts who would help an assassin who targeted a Mandalorian. Then an idea occurred to her.

"There is another alternative that we haven't considered," she said quietly. When Vhetin glanced at her for explanation, she said, "What if he never went to the spaceport? What if he headed in this direction just to throw us off?"

Vhetin pondered over that for a long time. Venku eventually spoke up and said, "Jay, you have contacts in the Enforcement Office, don't you?"

"Friends," Jay clarified, "not contacts."

"Okay. But couldn't you reach out to them and see if they could lend any assistance?"

"I would," Jay said slowly. "But I don't think they play favors. Without evidence of an attack…"

"And my word isn't enough?" Vhetin inquired.

"Unfortunately not. And you smashed up that incapacitator, which was the only evidence we had that someone's trying to kill you. So no, I don't think so."

"Too bad. We could probably use their help."

Kadira narrowed her eyes and readjusted her grip on her rifle. "We're getting close. I guess we'll just have to settle for three Mandos and a tough-as-nails _aruetii_."

"I may be from Corellia," Jay said, blushing slightly, "but that doesn't make me tough-as-nails."

"I beg to differ," Kadira said with a smile. "I've heard of your career. You took the Oppor Tor contract. That took some _gettse_."

"Well… I had Vhetin to help me out. I was more of a burden than a help."

"I'm sure you held up fine."

Vhetin, meanwhile, was looking around the area, his helmet's rangefinder slid down into scanner mode. Jay was going to reply to Kadira's observation when she noticed her partner's stance shift ever so slightly. It was almost invisible, but she saw his heavy combat boots shift so he was putting most of his weight on his front foot. He slowly unclipped one of his lightsabers from his belt.

"Vhetin?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

Kadira glanced over at the black-gray Mando. She took one look at his stance and quickly pulled her helmet over her head.

"Vhetin? You gone deaf or something?"

"Quiet," he murmured. "We're being watched."

Venku cursed quietly and turned to watch their back, drawing a heavy-duty pistol from its holster on his belt. He glanced over his shoulder. "Is it our special friend?"

"I think so. He's around here somewhere."

Kadira's rangefinder slid down into scanning mode as well and she began surveying the narrow street with the same wide, sweeping motions that Vhetin was using. When her gaze moved over the left-side rooftops, she froze and slowly flexed her grip on her rifle.

"I've got him," she murmured.

"Heat signatures are a little off," Vhetin whispered. "Could be a trap."

"I'll head up there," Kadira said, "check it out and report back."

She took a step forward and ignited her rocket pack. Twin spouts of flame erupted from her pack's thrust tubes and she roared up into the air. She floated at roof level before shooting forward and disappearing over the roofline.

"What do you think it is?" Venku asked. Jay shrugged silently. Vhetin was still frozen in place, staring at the rooftop cautiously.

Finally, Kadira poked her helmeted head out from over the roofline and called, "False alarm, guys. It's just some _aruetii_ hobo up here trying to get out of the cold."

Jay slowly relaxed, removing her hand from its cautious grip on the butt of her pistol. Venku holstered his own weapon with a relieved chuckle.

Vhetin, though, still wasn't moving. He activated his lightsaber and the bright blue blade sprang to life with a synthetic hiss. Jay jumped slightly at the sound and said, "What's wrong? She said it was just a false alarm."

"I know," Vhetin said. His voice was very slow and quiet. "And I don't like it."

"What's wrong now?"

He didn't move. "There's a laser sight pointed right at the middle of my helmet."

Jay stared and saw that there was a tiny red dot dancing over the black-painted _beskar_ of her partner's helmet forehead. She cursed and drew her pistol, but Vhetin held out a hand and said, "Wait. Don't make any sudden moves."

"Why not?"

"This isn't him."

Venku cocked his head as he slowly returned his blaster to his hand. "What do you mean? You have some other _aruetii_ trying to gun you down?"

"The sniper rifle he's using is hooked up by remote. He's controlling it from somewhere else around here."

"Hey guys," Kadira called from the roof. "It got pretty quiet down there. What's going on?"

"Don't worry about it," Vhetin called, his voice sounding like he was speaking with gritted teeth. "We have the situation under control."

"Under control?" Jay said. "You've got a karking sniper rifle pointed at your head!"

"Give me a second," he muttered. "If this thing's systems are a little slow, I can probably move out of the way before it fires."

"And if they aren't?"

He didn't answer and instead began counting down. Jay tensed, readjusting her grip on her blaster as she waited.

"Three… two… one..."

He suddenly threw himself to one side, rolling out of the way as Jay heard a deafening _crack_. She heard something whizz by and the sidewalk exploded where her partner had just been standing.

"Head's up!" Venku shouted, raising his pistol and firing into the air.

A man plummeted down from the rooftops, rolling to shed excess momentum and coming to his feet firing. Two heavy blaster pistols were in his hands and he sprayed the street with fire. Venku was knocked onto his back when three separate bolts hit him in the stomach plate.

Jay cursed and jumped behind an overflowing trash bin, poking her head out to squeeze off a few shots. The man dodged and ducked and all three blaster bolts missed.

Venku fought to rise to his hands and knees and raised his heavy pistol, firing off two bright red bolts. One of the shots missed, but the other grazed the man's shoulder. He shouted in pain and swiveled to face the multi-colored Mando.

Vhetin threw himself forward, his every motion permeated with deadly determination. A lightsaber was lit in his hands and he whirled it in front of him in blinding arcs of light. He slashed at the man's chest – a blow that the man easily dodged – before spinning and landing a kick to the face. Jay heard the clash of boot against metal and the man staggered back, clutching at the steel-gray helmet that covered his head. He growled and opened up with both pistols, catching Vhetin in the chest with a barrage of blaster fire.

"Cin!" Jay shouted as her partner staggered back, clutching at his chest. But his chest plates were deflecting the blows easily and Vhetin raised his saber again. The man lashed out with a powerful kick that hit Vhetin in the wrist, sending his weapon flying from his grip.

With a shout, Kadira suddenly plummeted down from the air, kicking out booth feet and hitting the man square in the back. He went flying, slamming face-first into a nearby lamp pole and crashing down onto his back.

Vhetin drew his saber pike from its place on the side of his jetpack and activated the blade with a flourish. The attacker struggled to rise to his feet, clutching at his head, but the black-armored Mando quickly slammed the blunt end of his weapon across the man's head. He then easily spun the pike around and held the glowing blue blade of his weapon at the man's throat.

"Whoa," Vhetin said darkly. "Where do you think you're going?"

Seeing that the fight was over, Jay slowly moved out from behind cover. She noticed Venku doing so as well, holstering his weapon. She nodded to him and he let out an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion.

"That was a lot more intense than your typical Stunball match," he said. He pulled his helmet off and wiped his forehead before pulling the gray-red helmet back over his head.

Vhetin, meanwhile, had grasped their attacker by the front of his jacket, his helmet faceplate almost touching the man's smooth metal mask. He was shaking the man roughly. The man had his hands raised in submission, hands clenched into fists.

"Who do you work for?" the black-armored Mando demanded, his voice little more than a snarl. When the man didn't answer, Vhetin slammed him against the ground painfully hard. "Who hired you?"

The man still didn't answer, his cold blue eyes never leaving Vhetin's helmet faceplate. Eventually he said, "I wonder why you always wear a helmet. I mean, I can get you wearing it on contracts to try and protect your identity. But here in your so-called _home_?"

He cocked his masked head. "What exactly is it that you have to hide?"

Vhetin slammed him against the ground again and said, "You're the one attacking me. Why don't you tell me?"

The man chuckled and said, "You know more than you let on, bucket-head. I mean, after all… you aren't _that_ surprised to see me, are you?"

He winked, one of his pale blue eyes disappearing into the darkness of his mask for a moment. Jay caught the motion and frowned in confusion.

"What's he talking about, Cin?" she asked.

"I… I don't know," he said. "He's talking nonsense."

"Nonsense?" the man said. "I beg to diff-"

Vhetin planted his boot in the man's chest. His saber blade hovered over the man's throat and he said, "You say one more word besides the name and location of your employer and you won't have a head where you can put that ugly helmet."

The man laughed, the sound echoing inside his helmet. Jay found it one of the most disturbing sounds she had ever heard.

Vhetin's aggressive stance faltered slightly and he growled, "What the kriff are you laughing at?"

"You," the man gasped. "Standing there looking all high-and-mighty. You really thought for a _second_ that you were in control here?"

He suddenly opened his hands and two round objects bounced across the ground. Jay stared at them for a moment before shouting, "Frag grenades! Get down!"

Kadira cursed and threw herself as far away from the detonators as she could. Vhetin threw himself backward, igniting his jetpack for a quick burst to carry him further from the man. Jay grabbed Venku's arm and dragged him out of the way, taking cover behind the overflowing dumpster again.

There was a bright flash and the roar of an explosion. Jay grimaced against the blast, covering her ears and head. After only a few moments, though, she looked up and frowned.

"What?" Venku said from beside her. He had his helmet faceplate pressed against the sidewalk. "What's wrong?"

She slowly moved up to her hands and knees, peering over the edge of the dumpster. All she could see beyond was a cloud of thick gray smoke.

"Frag grenades are designed to inflict maximum damage," she explained, narrowing her eyes. "There should have been a spray of shrapnel and a shockwave. That was… different."

She slowly stood and peeked out from the edge of the dumpster. There was a dark cloud of smoke wafting through the street. She could make out the blurry figures of Vhetin and Kadira also standing and surveying the damage – or lack thereof.

"What happened?" Jay called to her partner, coughing and waving smoke out of her face.

"Smoke grenade," Vhetin growled. "They pack a lot of flash, but don't cause any damage. And unless I'm mistaken…"

The smoke slowly cleared, revealing a street that was devoid of life save for the four. Vhetin's attacker was nowhere to be seen. Her partner scooped up his saber pike and shook his head in disgust. "Damn it. I should have seen that one coming."

"And what would you have done?" Kadira asked. "They may not be lethal, but smoke grenades detonating right in front of you would still blind you, even with your HUD polarizers."

Vhetin shook his head. "I know. But we _had him_ , and now he's gone again. Two escapes… we may not find him again."

"I may have some news to the contrary," Venku suddenly said. Jay, Vhetin, and Kadira all turned to him. He looked between them and quietly said, "Well, while you guys were trying to find out what happened, I pulled up the flight schedule for the spaceport. It's almost twenty-one-hundred hours and most of the outbound flights have gone. All but one: a nonstop flight to Mon Calamari."

He pulled his helmet off, patting down his messy black hair. He looked a little uncomfortable with so many armed bounty hunters paying complete attention to him. "I figure if that guy is still trying to escape, he'll take the first flight out of here."

Jay stared at him, then her face broke into a grin. "Venku, sometimes I wonder if you really are a bounty hunter. You're certainly clever enough to work as one."

He smiled sheepishly. "Come on. It was just a hunch. The guy may not even be there."

"Nevertheless, it's a lead," Vhetin said, taking a step forward. "And one we should pursue. We'll need to gear up and head out tomorrow morning. Jay, you ready to head back to Mon Cal?"

Jay rolled her eyes, remembering the time she, Vhetin, and Brianna had traveled to the ocean world to hunt down a dangerous terrorist. She had almost been shot on several occasions, Vhetin had almost been ripped limb-from-limb by a crazed Wookiee, and they had all almost been killed by an experimental Imperial bomb.

"I'm jumping for joy inside," she sighed. "Really I am."

Vhetin didn't laugh, instead turned to Kadira and folding his arms across his chest. "What about you? You want to tag along?"

The woman shook her head. "Sorry, but no thanks. I thought hunting this guy down would be a fun way to spend a weekend, but I've got _osik_ to smuggle and this has gotten bigger and more dangerous than I'd like. Best of luck, Vhetin, but I'm sitting this one out."

"I don't blame you, _vod._ I wish I could too."

She held out a hand. " _K'oyacyi, vod_."

He nodded and said the same, shaking her hand. The _Mando'a_ farewell made Jay's stomach squirm a little. Though it colloquially meant _hang in there_ , its literal translation was an order: _stay alive_.

Jay knew her partner wasn't much for orders. But she hoped that just this once he could manage to follow this one.


	6. Heartbreak

**Keldabe, Mandalore, 2200 hours**

Jay opened the door to her apartment and slipped inside, careful not to make noise that would wake any of the building's other tenants. She noticed that her apartment comm had missed two calls. One was from a friend of hers, Loren Atin, informing her about a sale on pistol ammunition on the next Market Day in the city. The other was from her… well, she wasn't sure if she could classify him as her boyfriend yet, but she used it for lack of a better word.

" _Hey there, Jay,"_ he said. " _I guess you're still out there somewhere dealing with that emergency. If you get the chance, call me back. I'm worried about you."_

She pulled off her jacket, throwing it on the couch in the open area of the apartment she had transformed into her living room. She picked up the comm and hooked it into her ear as she stepped up to a chest of drawers. She opened the top drawer, which was filled with foam insets. Resting inside were two high-quality blaster pistols and three hourglass-shaped stun grenades. She took them all and set them gently on top of the chest.

She typed in her boyfriend's comm number and waited for him to pick up. He answered after only one comm buzz. He sounded a little out of breath, as if he had run for the comm.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "You asked me to call you."

"I did. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Why do you sound so worried?"

"I heard there was an attack in Keldabe. What happened?"

"My partner has someone trying to kill him," Jay explained as she opened the second chest drawer. Resting inside was the battered black armor she had worn during the Supercommando deployment two weeks ago. She had been told to keep the armor when they had returned to Mandalore, with the explanation that she would need it again.

"The guy dropped in on us while we were trying to track him down," she said, debating whether or not to take the armor. She bit her lip, then pulled the heavy chest piece out of the drawer and dropped it onto the couch next to her jacket.

"Is everyone okay?"

"We're all fine," she reassured him. "But I'm afraid our catch-up date is going to have to be postponed. We have a lead on the guy and we're heading to Mon Calamari to follow up. I may not be back for a couple days, a week tops."

There was a long pause over his end of the comm. Eventually he said, "But you just got back. Can't your partner deal with this?"

"He… he could," she slowly said, "but he's already almost been killed twice already. He needs help and he doesn't really trust anyone but me."

He sighed. "You know you don't have to go with him everywhere he goes."

"I'm his partner. I have an obligation to help him."

"Not really. I mean, partners can get some space from each other. Why don't you tell him you're going to sit this one out?"

"I… I can't," she said. "I'm one of the only people he trusts."

"You do realize that he managed perfectly well without you? He was a bounty hunter for years before he ever rescued you from that prison."

"Yes," she said. "And you're right; I could sit this one out. But it's my choice to help him."

He chuckled. "I applaud your loyalty, Jay. It's a good sign for our relationship."

She smiled as she opened the bottom drawer of the chest. Inside were stacks and stacks of tibanna gas ammunition. She pulled out a ten-clip stack, bundled together by a length of adhesive tape. "I'm glad you think so. But I have to leave. And I can't change that."

"Okay," he said. "I'm just asking you to think about what I said. If you hang around him too much, he'll grow dependent on you. He won't be able to function without you."

She paused, thinking over that. It wasn't as crazy as it sounded. She already couldn't think about hunting without her partner. She didn't know what Vhetin thought about the subject.

 _Would that really happen?_ she thought. _Would I dull Cin's abilities by helping him too much? What if the reason this assassin has been able to get the drop on him is because he's come to depend on me watching his back?_

She shook her head. "I don't know about that. All I know is that he needs my help and I'm going to go to Mon Cal with him."

"Okay. I guess I know better than to argue with you by now. Just be careful, okay? I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," she said. "We don't even know if he even went to Mon Calamari. It may just be a wild bantha chase."

"Banthas can still trample you," he pointed out. "Especially wild ones."

She laughed. "You worry too much. Just keep a bottle of _tihaar_ on hand. The way our dates keep turning out, I may choose your apartment as our next get-together location. It would sure be a hell of a lot easier than planning out dinner dates that keep getting canceled."

"I look forward to it," he said. "Call me when you get to Mon Cal?"

She nodded. "I will. I'll talk to you later."

She signed off the comm and tucked it back into her pocket. She surveyed her assembled gear and shook her head with a frown.

This mysterious attacker was getting on her nerves, even though he hadn't actually tried to harm anyone but Vhetin. There was something about the way he treated Vhetin, the way he'd winked playfully while saying, _you aren't that surprised to see me, are you?_

The man's casual tone, even though he'd been staring down the blade of Vhetin's saber pike, had struck something in Jay. It almost seemed like the man knew something she didn't. As if…

 _As if what?_ she thought to herself. _Am I really starting to think this guy_ _… what, knows Vhetin? That they were buddies?_

She told herself to stop thinking up conspiracy theories and get to work. It was obvious just from Vhetin's reaction to the man's presence that they were definitely _not_ friends. The fact that her partner was devoting so much time and effort to tracking him down was evidence of that.

 _Stop trying to think about what you don't know_ , she thought, remembering some of her earlier trainings with Cin, _and focus on what you do. Those are the keys to finding out just what the hell is going on._

So what did she know? The list wasn't extensive.

She knew that Vhetin's attacker was serious about bringing her partner down. He had attacked Vhetin twice in the same day, both times laying traps for them that Vhetin had somehow walked right into.

She knew that the man had some kind of advanced Special Forces training. He had to; no one else could have almost killed Vhetin _and_ Kalyn Farnmir. They were both as tough as bounty hunters came and only a seriously well-trained soldier would even consider going blaster-to-blaster with them.

She knew that the man wore some kind of crude helmet, but exactly why was still a mystery. Did he want to hide his face because he was simply shy like Vhetin? Or was he afraid that Vhetin would recognize him?

She rolled her eyes. _Great,_ she thought, _now I have to add my_ allies _to the list of possible culprits._

Finally, she knew that the man was possibly retreating to Mon Calamari, the oceanic home of the Mon Cal race and the slightly more hostile species, the Quarren. It was common knowledge that the Empire had a powerful hold over the planet and its renowned shipyards, but why a mysterious killer would travel there was beyond Jay.

 _Then again, that's why we're heading there_ , she thought as she began loading her gear into a rucksack. _To find out who the guy is and what he wants with Cin._

She wondered just how her partner was dealing with this. He was paranoid enough already, and having a bloodthirsty assassin on his back wouldn't improve his mood.

 _Brianna will probably be able to loosen him up_ , she thought. _She's always been able to snap him out of his worst moods._

And there was another problem facing her partner, one that would probably be much harder than unraveling the mystery of his assassin: how to make up with his pissed-off girlfriend.

Jay had been in the hangar bay when Brianna had slapped Vhetin, and she could still remember the shock at seeing the two so obviously angry with each other. Yes, they had fought in the past, had sometimes gone over a week without speaking to each other. But as Brianna had stalked past her, Jay had gotten the feeling that this time was somehow different. That it had suddenly grown a lot more serious.

She sighed and shut the drawers to the chest, letting her hands rest on top of it, feeling the rough wood beneath her fingers.

It almost seemed like everything had suddenly gotten more serious, more complicated. Gone were her superficially carefree first days on Mandalore, where the planet had seemed so full of life and mystery. Suddenly she was being thrown into life-or-death situations on a regular basis and the small problems she had noticed at the beginning of the year had only escalated.

She chuckled quietly, though there was little humor in her heart. The sound echoed through her empty apartment, ringing back to her like the fading laugh of a ghost.

 _I never thought I'd be the nostalgic type,_ she thought, slowly sitting on the couch. _But here I am, wishing we could go back to the 'good old days'. Back when it was just me and Cin, hunting down scumbags in the criminal underworld._

She stared into the shadows for a long time before she thought, _screw it_ , and fished her comm back out of her pocket. She hit the redial button and waited.

"Back so soon?" her boyfriend's voice said after two hailing tones. "What's wrong?"

"I…" she hesitated. "Can you come over?"

"Sure. What's the problem?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Just need to see a friendly face."

"This whole deal you're wrapped up in is freaking you out, isn't it?"

She had no problem admitting it. "Yeah. It is."

"Have you thought about what I said?"

"I have," she said. "And I'm more convinced than ever that I need to go to Mon Cal."

"Okay," he sighed. "I guess I'll have to live with that. Can you wait fifteen minutes for me to get over there?"

"That'll be great. As long as you're here before I have to leave in the morning."

"I'll be right over," he said, and signed off.

Jay tossed her comm onto the couch next to her. She rested her head back against the couch and rubbed her tired eyes. She stayed that way for a long time, covering her eyes as if by blocking her vision of the world, she could also block out everything that was pressing in on her.

~~~~~~~~

**Vhetin's bastion, Kelita Forest**

Vhetin brought _Void_ down in a cautious landing in the forest clearing near his home. The tall grass beneath the ship waved violently in the engine wash of the transport. He flipped a couple switches and there was a large _clank_ from somewhere deeper in the ship as _Void_ 's six landing legs extended and connected with the ground.

After he ran the post-flight diagnostic, he unclipped his crash webbing and stood. He punched the opening stud for the cockpit door and made his way down the central corridor of his ship.

 _So_ _…_ he thought as he lowered the ship's exit ramp, _the Tracker's heading back to Mon Cal. It's been a while since I've been to that soggy hellhole. Maybe we'll get lucky and see a glimpse of the sun this time._

The last time he'd traveled to Mon Calamari, the city in which he was hunting had been in the midst of a powerful hurricane. He, Jay, and Brianna had almost been killed just by the weather.

As he made his way into the woods, he thought, _Why would he go there, though? I mean, the place has a powerful Imperial presence, but apart from that_ _… there's nothing that I can think of. And the Imperials won't offer any allegiance to him under any circumstances._

He found himself cursing the Tracker as he ducked under a large, gnarled tree that had shed most of its leaves. They crunched under his heavy boots as he made his way through the forest, which was a wash of bright reds, oranges, and the green of conifer trees that didn't shed their needles in the fall.

_So he's not going to Mon Cal because of any Underworld contacts or Imperial backup. The only alternative is_ _… what?_

He sighed and gave up his contemplations, at least for the moment. He just didn't have enough information to make a good hypothesis. Maybe once he reached Mon Cal he could reach out to Tish Wouta, a shady Nautolan mechanic who also happened to be a popular contact among bounty hunters. Though dealing with the alien left a bad taste in Vhetin's mouth and the squid-head had betrayed him often in the past, there really wasn't anyone else on the planet as connected as he was.

He hopped over the small stream a couple hundred meters from his _vheh'yaim. I found Pelano to be more trustworthy. Annoying, with a dubious interest in Brianna, but more trustworthy than Wouta._

He sighed in relief as the dome shape of his bastion came into view. Under normal circumstances, he would have loved to grab a few hours of sleep before leaving, but if we waited too long he'd risk losing the trail on the Tracker.

He quickly typed in the security code for the bastion's front door. The heavy durasteel barrier opened with a loud _clank_ and slowly slid open. He sighed again in relief and closed the door behind him. He stepped further down the hall and pulled his helmet off before clipping it to his belt.

His home was fairly Spartan. He owned nothing extravagant, only what he absolutely needed. Granted, the subterranean house was a little larger than he needed, with over ten rooms that branched off from the circular center gathering area, but he found the extra space useful for storing weapons, rations, and ammunition. He had even converted some of the rooms into training rooms or shooting ranges.

He passed into the main gathering area, or _karyai_ , a circular room with five halls that led deeper into the bastion. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary at first, but he paused when he entered the main room.

Brianna was sitting on the couch, watching the local HoloNews. She didn't look at him as he stepped through the entryway, just kept her eyes fixed on the viewscreen of his holomonitor. She had her arms folded neatly in her lap and her legs were crossed. She looked like she hadn't moved in hours. The flickering light of the holomonitor illuminated her face, making her look pale and ethereal in the darkness.

"Bri?" he asked slowly frowning as he turned on the overhead light. "I didn't know you were here. I didn't see _Blood Lily_ in the clearing."

"I hiked up here," she replied in a quiet, even tone. She didn't look at him. "This afternoon."

"Why?" That would have taken hours of trekking through unmapped forest, as well as some fairly extensive rock climbing. "Why not just fly up here?"

"It gave me time to think. I… I needed to sort some things out."

He sat next to her and tentatively took her hand. "Bri? What's wrong?"

"Get your hand off me," she snapped, and he jerked away.

She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. With the click of a button, she switched off the HoloNews and shook her head. "I'm sorry Cin. It's just that I… I don't know what to do with us."

Then it clicked: he had been out of contact with her the entire day, Venku had been asking around about a mysterious attacker, and word traveled fast around Keldabe.

Like Vhetin, Brianna knew exactly who the Tracker was and why the man was after him. She wasn't stupid. She could put it together that the Tracker was – or had been – in Keldabe and he hadn't commed to tell her he was in danger. Again.

She released a shaky sigh and looked over at him. Her eyes showed a sadness that was beyond tears. "Ever since Tachador… and that Protector deployment… Cin, I know why you didn't call me and I don't blame you for that. You couldn't risk bringing the Trandos down on your head. But you didn't even bother to give me any clues about whether you were still alive besides a few footprints or bloodstains on a bed sheet. I didn't know where you were, whether you were _hurt_. For the longest time, I thought… I thought you were…"

Her eyes began to water with tears and she broke off, taking a moment to compose herself. Eventually she looked at him with clear eyes and said, "Cin, I can't help you anymore. I can't stand by and watch you continue to destroy yourself while you refuse to let me help you. And I can't… I can't keep hoping that you'll miraculously go back to being the man I fell in love with. I'm sorry, but you and I… we're over. It's done."

"Bri-" he began.

"Don't," she interrupted. "Just don't. I've been thinking about this for a long time now, and I'm certain I'm making the right decision. For both of us. I just hope you'll be able to see that in time."

She stood with a shaky sigh. "I need to be alone for a while. I need time to come to terms with my choice, so please don't call or visit me for a week or so. After that… we'll see where we go from there. But I just… I can't go on like this any longer. I'm sorry."

She strode away, heading for the hall that led to the front door. He stood and followed her. As she pulled open the heavy entrance door, he took a deep breath and finally threw everything to the wind.

"Don't go…" he said, so quiet he could barely hear himself speak. He suddenly felt very small and afraid. "I love you, Bri."

He knew it was too late now, that no amount of affection or whispers of love would change either of their minds. But it was the best he could do.

She paused, a smile playing across her lips. She looked up at him, tears just beginning to wet her eyes again. "I know you do, Cin. And I love you. But you don't need me. You never have."

"That's not true," he said. "I wouldn't be standing here if not for you."

"But _that_ is what's not true," she said sadly. "You'd be here whether I had helped you or not. You don't need _anyone_ , Cin, and that's what makes you such a good bounty hunter.

"It's the reason we've struggled so hard these past years, and it's the reason we can't be together," she continued. "You can't change who you are, and it's not my place to ask you to try."

"That's not…"

He sighed and let his shoulders slump in defeat. It was no use arguing. Everything she said about him was true. He was cold inside, dead, and no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't be able to change that. She wouldn't be able to rekindle that spark of himself that had died sometime so long ago, and it was an insult to her to make her try.

She hesitated, bit her bottom lip, then moved back inside. She gently stepped into his arms, holding him close. For the first time in his life Vhetin genuinely responded, putting his arms gently around her waist and hugging her back.

"I don't hold anything against you, Cin," she sighed against his shoulder. "I'm just telling you what I see. And no matter how much I love you, there's only so much I can take. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he whispered into her hair. "It's me. It's always been me."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and kissed him. She pulled back quickly, as if the gesture would make her change her mind, then rested her head against his chest plates again.

"If it's any consolation…" she slowly said, "I don't think there's anyone out there as unique as you. You are the most amazing man I've ever had the privilege of knowing and I know that you'll pull through this deal with the Tracker."

After that they lapsed into silence, holding on to each other tighter. They stayed that way for a long time, gently rocking back and forth and holding each other as if their lives depended on it. Vhetin closed his eyes, losing himself in the embrace, in the feel of her body and the smell of her hair. He didn't care about his faults and failures. He didn't care that one of his final ties to sanity was being severed before his very eyes. Here, at the end, he finally felt the love that he'd been attempting to feel for so long.

It wasn't quite love; it was sprinkled with the sadness of losing Brianna at the very moment he finally opened up to her. But it was an emotion nonetheless and one that Mandalorians had a very special word for, a word that almost everyone interpreted differently. For Vhetin, it described the unbearable bittersweet moment when he finally broke free of his emotional restraints, even if only for a moment, and simultaneously lost that which mattered most.

_Aay'han._

It hurt, to be sure. But it was a facet of love all the same and he basked in it, trying to make it last as long as possible before it vanished into the bottomless void that was his heart. It had to end sometime, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it while it lasted.

So he held her. Because in the end, she was all that really mattered.

She pulled away after what felt like only moments and stepped away, clearing her throat self-consciously.

"Anyway," she said, her voice shaky and hoarse. "Um… I'm not going to ask you to explain yourself about not contacting me about the Tracker. After all, you have your reasons for everything you do, right?"

He nodded, unsmiling. "Yeah."

She turned to the door. "Then I'll see you around, Stripes."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I guess."

She nodded and opened her mouth as if to say more. She seemed to change her mind, closed her mouth, hesitated, then promptly walked through the door and disappeared into the dark outside.

Then the door slammed shut behind her, leaving him alone both physically and mentally.

The bastion was silent around him.

He sighed and turned away from the door. He suddenly felt as if the entire galaxy had deserted him, as if his entire being was suddenly empty. And it wasn't the calming focus he felt while working or fighting. All he felt now was an aching, empty hole where his heart used to be. He shook his head in despair as his gaze fell on his helmet, still clipped to his belt. He slowly unclipped it and raised it, studying it with narrowed eyes.

That helmet, with its black-painted _beskar_ and the two gray stripes up the left side of the helmet dome… it symbolized everything he'd come to hate about himself. His shattered life, his cold heart, his inability to maintain the fragile connections he'd made with the people he loved. And in that moment, he hated himself and everything he stood for more than anything else in the galaxy.

Cin Vhetin was a lie. A lie that had ruined his life.

With sudden violence, he hurled the helmet across the room. It bounced off the wall of the central room and spun to a halt on the carpeted floor, still staring up at him with that remorseless, pitiless T-visor that he despised so much.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his back hitting the wall behind him. He didn't cry; he hadn't cried his entire life on Mandalore. He just stood alone in the dark, trying to come to terms with this new self-inflicted wound he'd brought upon himself, and the new hole it left within him. He eventually slid down the wall until he hit the floor and buried his face in his hands.

He stayed that way the rest of the night.


	7. Setting Out, One Last Time

**The next morning**

Jay knocked on the door of Vhetin's _vheh'yaim_. It had taken her almost half an hour to locate the bastion now that the foliage had regrown. In the past it had been much easier to find her partner's hidden home by following the burned trail of a fire that had run through the area a month earlier. Now, though, the bastion was once again overgrown with forest foliage and almost buried in autumn leaves.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains in the distance, sending tendrils of pink and orange snaking into the sky. She guessed that it was maybe an hour before full daylight. She would have to hurry if they were going to make it to the spaceport in time.

She took a deep breath of the crisp forest air, relishing the earthy smells that wafted to her from all directions. Then she knocked on the door again and called, "Vhetin? You there? It's almost time to go."

No answer. She sighed and thought, _he's probably in one of his moods again._

She knocked again and said, "Cin, come on! Where-"

She fell silent as the heavy durasteel door creaked open slightly. She frowned and slowly put a hand on her pistol.

The door had been left open. Maybe all night.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside, drawing her pistol. The entrance hall was dark and cold from the night air. She frowned and clicked the safety off her weapon.

"Cin?" she called. "Where are you?"

She heard a sharp _thwack_ from deeper inside the bastion, followed by a grunt of effort. Moments later there was another crack of what sounded like metal against wood. She grew even more worried when she saw her partner's helmet lying on the floor of the _karyai_. She scooped it up and examined it before cautiously tucking it into her rucksack.

 _What the hell is going on?_ Jay quickened her pace, heading toward the sound. It was coming from one of the rooms Vhetin had transformed into a training area. She paused a moment, pressing her back to the wall next to the door and listening intently. She heard a series of crashes, followed by the unmistakable voice of her partner as he cursed.

She slowly pushed open the door and peeked in. When she did, her eyebrows shot up and she lowered her pistol.

"Vhetin?" she said quietly as she stepped inside.

The training room was a mess. There were shards of splintered wood scattered across the padded floor and melee weapons were tossed everywhere. Her partner was in the middle of the chaos, pounding away at a wooden sparring dummy with his _beskar_ saber pike hard enough to send chips of wood flying everywhere. He wasn't wearing his helmet, but most of the room's lighting was dim and his face was thrown into shadow.

"Cin?" she said, raising her voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't look at her, instead kept hammering away with his deactivated saber pike. He whirled it over his head and around his back, lashing out with blows that were so fast she could barely see them. His body was moving fluidly, as if every ounce of his concentration was focused on doing as much damage to the sparring dummy as possible. And he was certainly achieving that goal.

He eventually let out a grunt of effort and whipped his pike against the dummy so hard it snapped in half. The large chunk of human-shaped wood fell to the padded ground with a heavy _thud_. Her partner stood, fists clenched around the shaft of his pike, his breath coming in short, angry gasps.

"Vhetin," she said quietly, taking a cautious step toward him. "What's wrong?"

He threw his pike aside, letting it clatter to the floor at Jay's feet. He stepped up to a heavy punching bag mounted to the ceiling just behind the destroyed dummy. He began lashing out at it with his bare fists, hard enough to make it sway violently back and forth.

"Vhetin, listen to me," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the impact of his fists against the rough material of the punching bag. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He stopped his fighting and let his hands fall against the bag. He rested his forehead against the coarse material and a long sigh escaped his shadowy lips.

"Brianna left me," he said. The words spilled out of his mouth, as if they were rushing out against his will. "She broke up with me."

Jay blinked. " _What_?"

"Last night," he said. "She… she just left. Said she couldn't take any more. That I'd thrown too much _osik_ her way."

He punctuated the _osik_ with a vicious blow to the punching bag, powerful enough to rip the bag from its housing in the ceiling and send it crashing against the wall. It toppled onto its side and began spilling sand onto the floor.

"I… I'm sorry," she murmured, shocked by his news and his sudden violence. She had never seen him so out of control and his superhuman abilities only made him all the more fearsome. "I had no idea it was that bad."

"Neither did I," he growled. He kicked the bag with a heavy boot.

"Well… it's almost time to go. Are you ready to head out? Maybe a change of scenery will make you feel better."

He sighed and turned his back to her. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I'm just a dumb Mando who's in way over his head."

"I don't believe that," she said. "Brianna is a very passionate woman who is very angry right now. She'll be back."

"I don't think so. She made that pretty clear when she spoke to me last night."

"Only time will tell. But there's no sense in getting this angry if she'll just stay away for a few weeks."

"I'm not mad at her," he sighed. "I could never be mad at her. She just told me how she was feeling and that she needed to get away from me before I dragged her down with me."

"So what-"

"I'm angry with _myself_ ," he snapped. "In my mind I know I should have treated her better. And now that she's gone… I guess now I can see everything that I used to take for granted."

He didn't turn to her, but a note of despair entered his voice and it told Jay more about what her partner was going through than any facial expression could.

"I _loved_ her, Jay. She was my entire world, and now she's gone."

The comment sent a chill through her heart as she remembered what it was like to love and be loved in return. Like Vhetin, she had lost someone extremely close to her. She knew that a broken relationship was nothing like a lover being killed, but she decided not to mention that. She knew what Vhetin was going through and she knew that pointing out other people's bigger problems would not ease his pain.

"She's not gone," she said slowly. "She just wants some space. I've known people who have broken up five times and still wound up together again. All you have to do is listen to Brianna and work to change whatever problem she has with you."

"I don't think that will happen," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Because her problem is with _me_. All of me."

"What does that mean?"

He shook his head again and sighed. "Nothing. Don't listen to me."

She took another step forward, hesitated, then put a comforting hand on his armored shoulder. "It's okay, Cin," she said quietly. "You can tell me. I'm your friend."

He took a deep breath and for a moment she believed with heart-stopping certainty that he was finally going to come clean with his past. Had she finally gotten through to him? Had she finally convinced him that all she wanted was to help him?

But he didn't offer any incredible revelations about who he really was, didn't elaborate on what Brianna was so upset about. He just lowered his gaze to the floor and said, "I've heard too much about me already. I just want to be alone so I can think about this."

She pulled her hand off his shoulder and bit back a sigh of frustration. Instead she adopted a softer tone and said, "Well it's almost dawn. Are you ready to go?"

"Everything I need is onboard _Void_."

"Then let's track down the man trying to kill you." She pulled his helmet from her rucksack and held it out to him. "Who knows? Maybe some danger will take your mind off things."

He half-turned to her before holding out a hand and gently taking the helmet from her. He pulled the helmet over his head and his suit sealed with a hiss. He took a deep breath and turned to her fully. For some reason she felt as if she could feel his pain, as if it was radiating out from behind that expressionless, emotionless battle helmet faceplate.

"Fine," he said, bending over and scooping up his saber pike. He hooked it to his jetpack. "Let's get this over with."

"And no more… destroying stuff because of Brianna," she said, looking around the devastated room. "Okay? Let's deal with the crises in order of lethality. She's not trying to kill you, so she can wait."

He didn't laugh. "Let's just go."

She slowly fell in next to her partner as he made his way toward the front door of the _vheh'yaim_. He held the heavy door open for her and she stepped back out into the pre-dawn forest. The temperature had dropped just in the time she'd been inside and the pale fog that shrouded the mountains promised a cold day ahead.

 _Lucky for us we're going to warm, sunny Mon Cal_ , she thought as her partner slammed the durasteel door shut and strode quickly up out of the entrance tunnel. She quickened her pace to follow him.

They walked in silence back to the forest clearing where her fighter, _Vengeance_ was resting on its landing struts. Vhetin's larger transport, _Void_ , was sitting on the other side of the clearing, concealed with forest-weave camouflage.

He walked silently up to the ship and yanked the camouflage covering off the ship, gathering it up and stuffing it into an external supply cabin. He then lowered _Void_ 's landing ramp and disappeared inside without so much as a glance in Jay's direction.

She stared at him, one boot on the hull of her ship. She watched the ramp close before she sighed in a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

Vhetin had always been distant in the past, rarely engaging in petty conversation and usually not speaking at all. But it had always been a cool detachment, a levelheaded calm that she had actually come to find comforting. Now there was a definite edge of anger in his every movement. And if what he'd said was true, it wasn't anger directed at Brianna but at himself.

That was what worried her. Anger directed at others could be overcome by forgiveness or time spent away from the person. But Vhetin couldn't exactly get away from himself and that anger would just fester and grow until…

She was pretty sure she didn't want to think about it.

She pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and swung herself up into the cockpit of her fighter. With several well-practiced motions she lowered the canopy and sealed the cockpit. Grasping the control yoke, she warmed the engines and pulled the fighter into the sky.

The angular spearhead shape of _Void_ rose in front of her ship. Its nose rotated to face the distant urban sprawl of Keldabe before shooting off into the sky. Jay gunned the engines and rocketed off after it.

It was a short, silent trip to the Keldabe spaceport. Vhetin only spoke to request landing clearance, then fell as silent as before.

Venku was waiting for them in the spaceport dock, a small supply sack slung over his shoulder and his gray-red helmet clipped to his belt. Jay was surprised to see Rame and Jaing standing next to him. The three were talking among themselves as the two ships came in for a gentle landing.

As soon as the post-flight diagnostic was complete, Jay popped the canopy and hopped up out of her ship. Venku waved her over almost as soon as her boots touched solid ground.

As she approached, she heard Jaing saying, "Do you have any idea what _Kal'buir_ will do to you if he catches you?"

"Yes," Venku replied. "But if you keep your fat mouth shut, he won't find out."

"I'm not sure keeping things from Old Man Skirata is such a good idea," Rame said quietly. "He's a retired bounty hunter. He'll find out eventually."

"If we're lucky it won't take long. All we have to do is find one trigger-happy _aruetii_. What's the worst that could happen?"

Jaing rounded on Jay and said, "You there. You talked him into this, didn't you?"

"Me? Don't be crazy. We all tried to talk him out of it. But he's a Mando and you guys aren't really very good at following orders."

"Though I can't disagree, I may have to put my foot down on this. Venku, what would your father think?"

"My dad has pulled so many excuses out of his _shebs_ to try and keep me on _Manda'yaim_ that I've heard it all. And what did you just say? You'll _put your foot down_?"

He scowled and patted his helmet. "I'm an adult Mando by our customs, so I can do whatever the hell I feel like. And I've decided that I'm going to tag along on this hunt."

"He may actually be helpful," Jay pointed out. "This _aruetii_ has attacked Vhetin twice already. We need all the guns we can get."

Jaing shook his head and cursed. "I hate this. _Te Manda_ help you if _Kal'buir_ finds out you're gone."

"So you won't tell anyone?"

He shook his head with a scowl. "I'll spread the word around that you're hanging out with a friend in Vhe'vor. The town's far enough away that no one will head over there to snoop around."

Venku grinned and clasped his uncle's forearm. " _Vor'e, Ba'vodu Jaing'ika_."

Vhetin strode up to the small group, his _kama_ fluttering in the cold breeze. "Are things settled here? Can we go?"

Jaing turned away and made for the exit while Venku nodded. "Everything's settled."

"Not quite," Rame said. "Vhetin, walk with me for a minute, will you?"

The two stepped away and began speaking quietly. Venku strode toward _Void_ , disregarding the two. He was halfway to the ship's entrance ramp when he turned back and said, "You coming Jay?"

She stared at Vhetin and Rame, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah… I'll be right there."

She stepped after the two and listened closely, careful not to draw attention to herself. She watched as Rame put a hand on Vhetin's shoulder and said, "Cin… Brianna called me and told me about what happened yesterday."

Vhetin was silent.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" Vhetin said. "Brianna was fed up with me and she decided to do something about it. I'm not angry with her."

"But you're obviously angry. Whatever it's about, I'm telling you that I'm here to help."

"Help with what?" Vhetin snapped. "What's done is done. I'll get over it."

"I'm not sure that's the attitude you should have."

"What more do you want from me?" he demanded. "I'm not some broken-down teenager any more, Rame. I'm an adult and I'm more than capable of dealing with this on my own."

"I'm just-"

"This is between Brianna and me," he said. "And maybe not even that any more. She made it pretty clear last night that we are _over_. If that's her decision than we'll both have to live with it."

"But you love her."

"Do I? I'm not so sure any more. After she left, I started taking a good, long look at everything I've done for her over the past six years and you know what? The list was pretty kriffing short. I found out that even I wouldn't want to put up with myself either, so I don't blame her for standing up for herself."

"Don't sell yourself short," Rame said, a stern note coming into his voice now. "I know she loves you back. For _te manda's_ sake, Cin, she's _told_ me!"

"I don't _care_ anymore!" he snapped. "I really just don't _give_ a _shab_! She's made her decision, I went along with it, _end of story_. It's _over_."

"Don't talk like…" Rame trailed off with a sigh. "Whatever. If you want to think like that, it's your loss. But you have – _had_ – something special with Brianna and I'd hate for you to ruin that over one fight."

"Yeah, well right now I'm kind of sick of hearing other people's opinions about me. So how about you just exercise a little Mandalorian apathy and leave me the kriff alone?"

With that, Vhetin turned and stalked toward his ship. He brushed past Jay without a word. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her black-armored partner as he strode up the landing ramp and disappeared inside.

Rame was watching him walk away as well. As soon as he stepped out of sight, the silver-red Mando sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"That _di'kut_ is going to be the death of me," he muttered, stepping up next to her. "He's always been a little off where his heart is concerned."

"He's always been like this?"

Rame let out a short laugh. "You should have seen him when he first started dating Brianna. It was even worse than it is now."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You're looking at Cin and Brianna after all the turbulence in their relationship has died down. These are just the aftershocks."

"Brianna just broke up with him," Jay said. "That's a pretty major aftershock."

Rame feigned a smile, but there was too much tension in the motion for Jay to believe it. "I don't know if that will last. Brianna tends to make decisions first and question them later. She'll take him back."

She stared after Vhetin. "I don't know. This sounds pretty serious. What if she doesn't?"

Rame narrowed his eyes. "Then Cin has some rough days ahead of him. Brianna has almost always been there for him. They've been together for over six years and commitment like that doesn't vanish overnight."

He turned to Jay. "Do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Keep an eye on him, all right? I've never told him this, but he's kind of like an adopted son to me. Or… well, maybe more like a slightly annoying younger brother. Either way, Mia and I care about him. And he has a tendency to get… distracted, especially regarding Brianna."

He shook his head. "Just try to keep him out of trouble, yeah?"

"Vhetin's never really been one to let me interfere," Jay said slowly. "But I'll do my best."

Rame nodded. "Be careful, both of you. With Cin so upset about Brianna, it's possible that he'll slip up somewhere. And that's exactly the kind of opening this assassin of yours needs."

"I'll try to keep him on his toes," she reassured him. "We've been in much more dangerous situations than this and I haven't lost him yet."

Rame nodded and turned away. " _Oya,_ you two."

Jay waved in farewell. As the Mando turned to leave, she strode toward _Void_ and stepped up the entrance ramp, hefting her rucksack over her shoulder. Vhetin had said earlier that they needed to travel inconspicuously, so they were all traveling together on the battered transport ship.

Venku was leaning against the circular table in the round center room of the ship. He was typing something quickly into his datapad. He looked up and smiled at Jay as she entered.

"Hey there," he said. "You ready to head out?"

She set down her heavy rucksack. It hit the deck with a loud _thump_. "I'm all set up. How about you?"

He patted the blaster holstered on his hip. "This is all I need."

She let out a short laugh as she lugged her rucksack over to where she could lean it against the table. "You're obviously not a bounty hunter. The whole deal about traveling light works well in theory, but you're going to need more than just a pistol and two magazines of ammo if we get into a firefight."

"You guys are the experienced hunters," he replied. "I thought I'd let you do all the shooting and I would just dazzle our enemies with my charm and overwhelming good looks."

She laughed. "Let me know how that works out for you. I'll make sure they engrave that sentiment on your gravestone. Where's Cin?"

Venku jerked his head over his shoulder. "He locked himself in the cabin and hasn't come out since."

He frowned and said, "Hey, is there anything wrong with him? He seems a little weirder than usual."

"Brianna dumped him."

Venku's eyebrows shot up and his cheerful mood died almost instantly. "Oh. That would explain it."

"Yeah," she said. "It would."

"You think he's gonna be okay?"

Jay shrugged. "I think he'll either get over it or he won't. I managed to move on when I lost my boyfriend and he's at least ten times as tough as I am. So I think he'll learn to cope with his loss."

Venku nodded and fell silent, turning back to his datapad with a frown. Jay bid him farewell and made for the cockpit. She wanted to see where they were heading and what plan Cin had for their hunt. The deck lurched under her feet as the ship took off. She could feel a sudden heaviness in her limbs as _Void_ 's artificial gravity compensators rooted her to the deck while the ship tilted up and shot into the sky.

Vhetin was sitting in the pilot's chair as she entered. His helmet was resting on the deck next to his foot and he quickly scooped it up and pulled it over his head when he heard her enter.

"Oh," he said, relaxing as she slid into the copilot's seat. "Jay."

"Hi," she said, tapping a command into the console in front of her.

"You here to lecture me too?"

She shook her head as she read the HoloNet report on the Mon Cal area they were heading to, Gredon City. "I think I know you well enough to tell when that just won't work. I'm sorry about this deal with Brianna, I really am, but it's not any of my business."

He was silent for a long time. Then he finally said, "Thanks. I appreciate it."

She shrugged and said, "I keep trying to tell you that I'm looking out for you. I'm watching your back. It's a part of being your partner."

They lapsed into a long silence before she cleared her throat and said, "So what's the plan?"

"We'll need to link up with the Imperial station over Mon Cal," Vhetin said, sounding relieved to get back to business. "If this guy stowed away on the public transport Venku found, the pilot would have had to check in with local Imp forces to tell them where he was headed. The space station will have a record of that exchange."

"And from there?"

He hesitated. "We'll have to contact Tish Wouta for info."

Jay blinked. "Are we seriously going to him again? He almost got us killed last time we relied on him for info."

"I'm counting on him being a little more helpful since he isn't directly associated with our guy. He was scared of Jolee Uruc, but there's nothing that suggests he'll be scared of one lone assassin who isn't even interested in him."

"I guess I can't argue with your logic there."

Vhetin nodded. "I thought you might. Prepare for lightspeed. I'm going to push the engines harder than usual so we get there faster."

She quickly buckled herself in and braced herself as Vhetin pushed a lever forward and _Void_ shot into hyperspace.

~~~~~~~~

The Tracker leaned back in his seat onboard the transport. He glanced at the supply pack at his feet. His helmet and normal attire were tucked safely inside. He pulled out his datapad and pulled up the feed of the tracer beacon he'd placed on the hull of Vhetin's transport ship. The normal feeds were scrambled by his ship's hyperspacial speeds, but the tracer had broadcast that _Void_ had left the Mandalore system headed for Mon Calamari.

He chuckled and tucked the 'pad back into the supply pack. He settled back in his seat and rested his hands behind his head.

So, Vhetin was on his trail. Faster than anticipated, too. He was pursuing this semi-hunt with more determination than the Tracker had thought.

 _If he keeps this up,_ he thought, _I might actually break a sweat._

In all truthfulness, he wasn't surprised. Vhetin's Imperial personnel file was packed with descriptions of his ruthless resolve and his ability to pursue a target for irrational lengths of time. One mission file described an occasion when he had gone AWOL for over a month while tracking down a being with possible terrorist connections. In the end the man hadn't even been associated with any known terrorist organizations, but Vhetin had simply said that he, "brought in what targets I'm assigned with."

It was that kind of sociopathic determination that made him such an efficient hunter, even when compared to beings such as Boba Fett or Bossk. And the Tracker would be lying if he said the thought of that same determination focused solely on him was appealing.

 _Still,_ he thought, closing his eyes, _as soon as I get to Mon Calamari, everything will fall into place. Sociopaths are easy to deal with. You just give them a target – in this case, me – then sit back and wait for them to come scurrying right to you._

When Vhetin and his partner arrived on Mon Cal, they would think that they were somehow able to stay a step ahead of him, but in actuality they would be walking right into his crosshairs.

The overhead intercom sputtered and the captain's voice said, "All right, folks, we're coming up on Mon Calamari now. Prepare for deceleration into realspace."

There was a sudden surge of deceleration, powerful enough to jerk the Tracker forward against his crash webbing. The deceleration lasted for only a few moments before it suddenly ceased, throwing him back against his seat.

"That's it, folks," the captain said. "You are now free to move about the cabin and can freely use your datapad communicators."

The Tracker leaned forward and pulled out his datapad again. He tapped in a private calling code and waited for the call to be picked up. The screen of his 'pad sputtered after the second hailing tone and a wheezing rasp emanated from the 'pad. He quickly plugged in an audio jack and hooked it into his ear before the sound could draw the attention of any other passengers.

"Report," said a synthesized baritone voice. The image of Darth Vader's angular facemask appeared on the datapad's datascreen.

"Yes, Lord Vader," the Tracker murmured. "The plan is going well. I've lured the bounty hunters to Mon Calamari. Once there, I'm going to lure them into the second stage of my plan."

"Good," Vader replied. "And the bounty hunters themselves?"

"Cin Vhetin has some mild auditory damage. His partner hasn't been harmed yet."

Vader was silent for a few moments. "Very well. Continue with the operation. Finish this as quickly as possible. The scientists in charge of the Whiteclaw Project are impatient to continue their research."

"As you wish, Lord Vader," he said. "I will report back when I am ready to begin the next stage of the process."

Vader nodded and disconnected from his end of the comm. The Tracker shut the 'pad down and settled himself back into his chair again.

As the Emperor was fond of saying, everything was proceeding as planned. Soon Vhetin and his partner would no longer be an issue.

The Tracker chuckled and thought, _I just hope I get to see the look on Vhetin's face._

It was a while before the transport shuttle coasted down to the Mon Cal spaceport and began unloading passengers. As soon as it was his turn, the Tracker grabbed his rucksack and followed the others off the transport.

That was where he parted ways with the rest of the crowd. As soon as he stepped onto the landing pad, he stealthily crept away from the group and made for the opposite end of the pad. There, he could see a white-armored stormtrooper waiting for him.

"What do you want?" he asked, setting his heavy rucksack down when he reached the trooper. "More inspections? Or are you just part of the local security force?"

The trooper didn't react to his jab. He instead pulled a datacard from his belt and handed it to the Tracker. "The information you requested, sir."

"Is it everything?" the Tracker asked, taking the card.

"It is, sir. It wasn't easy pulling together all the information you requested. Tish Wouta is a slippery fierfek and it was challenging to track down his location."

"He's an underworld information broker. He's supposed to be slippery. It's the only way he stays alive."

He tucked the card into a pocket in his rucksack and said, "What about the comm numbers?"

"Again, hard to get. To be honest, I'm not sure what you're doing messing around with such high-level Imperials, but it's not my place to question."

The Tracker nodded. "That's a healthy mindset to have, trooper."

He was about to walk away when the trooper cleared his throat and said, "I don't mean to keep you, sir, but it took me a lot of time and credits to gather this information. I think I should receive some compensation, yes?"

The Tracker laughed. "Compensation? Of course, of course. Give me one moment to get it for you."

He rooted around in his rucksack for a moment before his fingers closed around the hilt of his vibroblade. Then he swiftly spun and plunged the blade into the stormtrooper's white duraplast chest plate. The man stiffened and released a pained grunt as the blade pierced his chest. The Tracker leaned close to the trooper's contoured faceplate and snarled, "Here's your _compensation_."

He slid the blade out and let the man topple to the ground. He wiped blood from the blade, staring at the dead man with a look of disgust on his face. Then he hefted the heavy bag back over his shoulder and set off across the perimeter of the pad again, stepping over the trooper's body as he went.

 _Standard Imperial black-ops protocol_ , he thought with a grim smile. _Leave no witnesses._


	8. Back to Mon Cal

~~~~~~~~

**Gredon City, Mon Calamari, three hours later**

Jay looked around as she stepped down _Void_ 's exit ramp and into the humid air of Mon Calamari. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue overhead save for a wisp of cloud near the flat ocean horizon. She could hear ocean water lapping against the edge of the landing pad where they had landed and could distinctly feel the pad beneath her feet rising and falling with the waves.

Vhetin's heavy bootsteps sounded on the ramp behind her. She didn't turn as he stepped up next to her and surveyed the landing pad as well.

"Are you experiencing feelings of nostalgia?" he asked quietly, resting his hands on his hips.

She snorted. "Last time we were here I was almost killed. It's now one of many locations on my growing list of places I hate."

"You know that this place is a huge tourist destination."

"My favorite tourist spot would be whichever place is as far away from here as possible. What's on the other side of the galaxy from Mon Calamari?"

"If memory serves, a volcanic planet called Prometha Six. The air is so toxic that you can't set foot on its surface without a breath mask."

"Set _Void_ on course and come get me once you're done with your business here," she said. "Take as long as you like."

Venku strode down the ramp as well, slipping a heavy-duty gauntlet over his arm. He wiped his forehead and said, "Whew. It's a little warmer than autumn Mandalore. Did anyone bring swimsuits?"

"Sorry," Jay said. "They must have been in another pack."

"Pity. So where do we head first, Stripes?"

"We should inform local law enforcement of just who tagged along on that transport. If we're lucky, we may gain some allies there."

"I'll get on that," Jay said. "I can also see if I can find out where the transport landed."

"Okay," Vhetin said, "while you're on that, Venku and I will head to the nearest cantina and see what intel we can get about the area. We still need a way to find Tish Wouta."

"I thought you said he was one of your contacts," Venku said. "Can't you just call him?"

"I don't think he'll be in any mood to talk to me."

"Well how did you find him last time you were here?"

"We didn't. Brianna brought us to him."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Vhetin said, his tone darkening. "Something tells me that she's not going to be in the mood to talk either."

Jay quickly changed the subject before Vhetin could get dragged down in despair about Brianna again. "Okay, so we'll meet up again here in how long? Three hours?"

Vhetin was about to reply when a voice shouted, " _Oi_! You there!"

He slowly turned his helmeted gaze to the speaker, a heavyset Rattataki male with paper-white skin, a bald, tattooed head, and Imperial-issue combat armor strapped across his chest. Vhetin stepped forward and folded his gauntleted arms across his chest. The muggy tropical air blew his _kama_ about, as it did to the leather tassels that hung from his left arm.

The new man stepped forward, a scowl on his face. He rested a hand on the butt of a pistol on his hip as he drew closer.

"Can we help you?" Vhetin said, tipping his helmeted head to one side.

"Yeah. You can walk right back into your ship and leave. We don't want your kind here."

"Explain."

"Bounty hunters," the man said. "We don't need you gun-packing, trigger-happy lowlifes here. There's no situation that you mercs don't escalate, so just leave and keep your noses in your own business. "

Venku leaned over to Jay and whispered, "This guy seems like he practices that line every time strangers come to town."

"Shh," she replied. "Just pay attention to what's going on here. We may get some clues as to what's going on."

"There's no law prohibiting bounty hunters on Mon Calamari," Vhetin was saying. "You have no authority to make us leave."

"I am under specific orders from Moff Pelano to refuse admittance to any bounty hunters matching your appearance."

" _My_ appearance?"

The man nodded. "You and the girl back there. The rainbow soldier I don't know."

" _Rainbow_?" Venku echoed incredulously. "I'll have you know-"

"Save it," Vhetin interjected. He turned back to the Rattataki. "We have work to do, _aruetii_ , and you have no right to keep us here. So either give us a viable reason to leave or get the hell out of our way."

The man glared at them furiously before saying, "The Moff thought you'd say something like that. He said if that was the case, he wanted to see you right away."

"I have a job to do, so if you're through wasting my time-"

"He was quite insistent," the man said, patting his weapon threateningly.

Vhetin stared at the man, then sighed. "All right then. Venku, you and I will check out the cantinas later. Let's go see what Pelano has to say."

"I'll go check out the local enforcement office," Jay said as they split up.

"Good. I'll comm you once we're done so we can meet up again."

Jay nodded and turned to leave. There was probably a speeder rental service somewhere in the spaceport that she could borrow for a quick transit to the local law enforcement office. As she walked, she pulled her comm from her pocket and dialed out a comm number.

"Hey there," a familiar voice said after a few hailing tones.

"Hey there yourself. You asked me to call you when we arrived on Mon Cal."

"So I did. Any problems?"

"None," she said. "But I've got a challenge that you may find interesting. And I need your help."

"Shoot."

"I'm trying to track down our mysterious assassin and I need to link up with local law enforcement. The only problem is that I don't think any of them will believe that there's some helmeted hit man trying to kill my partner. Do you know anyone here to where you could put in a good word for me?"

"And why do you think I would know someone?"

"Come on," she said. "You're Mandalorian. Each of you guys has at least a little experience as bounty hunters. You're trying to tell me you have no contacts outside Mandalore?"

"Sorry, but my experience with tracking down murderous cutthroats is pretty much nil. My life apparently isn't as interesting as yours. I'll see what I can dig up, though. I'll call you back."

"I'll be waiting," she said and signed off the comm. She quickened her pace, entering the crowded spaceport. The building's temperature regulators were working at full capacity and as soon as she stepped inside she was blasted by a wash of cold, filtered air. Inside she saw a bewildering array of beings, both human and alien, as they hurried about this business. More than any other species, she saw large-eyed Mon Calamari and the planet's other sentient race, the tentacle-mouthed Quarren.

The Mon Cal were working their way through the crowds, selling trinkets or morsels of food. The large-headed aliens looked shabby and destitute, their large round eyes dull and their normally vibrant red skin a dull brownish color. Jay knew from a HoloNet Report that the majority of the Mon Cal working class of Gredon City was under Imperial quarantine because of a minor uprising the aliens had orchestrated several months before. The work of supporting the family had fallen to the females, younglings, and the elderly while the soldiers of the City's Mon Cal population were being held captive. Jay wished she could help, but she knew she didn't have enough time or power. Some problems just weren't solvable by a single person.

As she stepped into the crowd, one of the aliens grabbed her arm with large webbed fingers and rumbled at her in a gurgly language she didn't understand. It thrust a collection of dripping-wet blue berries under her nose.

"No," she said, "I'm sorry, I'm not interested."

The alien gurgled at her again and she said, "No… no, I'm sorry, I'm not-"

Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. She gently pulled her arm out of the Mon Cal's grip and said, "Maybe you could help me. Do you speak Basic?"

The alien cocked its head and grumbled at her. She cocked her own head and said, "I… I don't understand. I'm trying to find a man who may have come through here. He wore a helmet. Do you understand what I'm saying? A helmet?"

She gestured to her face, trying to translate her words into a motion that the alien would understand. The fishlike creature widened its eyes and let out a wet rasp.

"I don't… never mind I guess," she said. She tossed a hundred-credit chip to the alien and stepped away. It was more than the berries cost, but she could spare the creds and the alien looked like it could use them. It let out a happy squelch and scurried off into the crowd.

It took her a couple minutes to find the rental speeder section. When she did, she found little more than oxidized wrecks that she didn't believe were anywhere near street-legal. But she still needed to get to the local enforcement office and she didn't have time to get there on foot.

"How much for a bike?" she asked the Twi'lek standing in the booth.

"A hundred," the alien grunted. "With an extra seventy for insurance."

She paid him the money and said, "Which one is mine?"

"Number six. Bring it back in one piece, right?"

"Okay," she said and held out her hand for the activation keys. The Twi'lek slapped them into her palm. She slid onto the seat and gunned the engine, shooting off onto the busy street. She swerved between larger speeders, watching roadside signs that would lead her to the enforcement office. The floating city was a maze of streets and back alleys and it took her almost twenty minutes to find her way to the local police office.

A large collection of buildings set around a multi-colored plaza, the police office looked like any other building on the street save for a parking lot full of blue-white police speeders. There were enforcement officers in deep blue uniforms hurrying about their business. It was slightly comforting to see that almost every one of them had a weapon.

What wasn't comforting was the perimeter guard of white-armored stormtroopers. She hoped they wouldn't recognize her as a wanted Imperial fugitive. The last thing she needed today was to be arrested when she needed police help.

She pulled over onto the side of the road and hopped off her bike. She had only taken a few steps toward the plaza when her comm buzzed. She hooked the unit into her ear and said, "That was quick. What did you find?"

"Hello yourself," her boyfriend said, a note of amusement in his voice. "Okay, as long as you're all-business... I called in a few favors from a guy I know who, in turn, called in a few favors from a guy, who-"

"Give me the edited version please," she said as she walked. "I'm kind of on a tight schedule here."

"Fine. You're looking for an Officer Cartman. You can't say that I sent you because, you know, he doesn't know me. But from all I've been able to gather he's your best bet."

"How so?"

"He's one of the best officers in the precinct and one of the most helpful when it comes to requests for assistance. According to my intel, you can find him on the second floor. Homicide office."

"Will he help? Our assassin hasn't actually killed Vhetin yet."

He chuckled. "Like I said, he's pretty much open to anyone who needs help. Even if he decides it's not his cup of _tihaar_ , he'll point you to someone who will help."

"Okay," she said. "Thanks."

"You owe me," he said. "An extra bottle of _shig_ for our date. Yeah?"

"I'll consider it," she said with a smile. "But extortion doesn't really turn me on."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "Call if you need any more help."

"I will," she said, and signed off the comm. She tucked it back into her belt and picked up the pace, heading for the main building. If what her boyfriend had said was true, the homicide office would be somewhere on the second floor.

~~~~~~~~

**Gredon City Imperial Garrison Command, Mon Calamari**

Vhetin strode past assembled rows of white-armored stormtroopers with a gaze trained resolutely forward. Venku was staring around the large foyer with a wide-eyed gaze, almost forced to jog to keep up with Vhetin's brisk pace. He looked at the assembled stormtroopers and murmured, "I wonder if these guys are like those Lutitian Honor Guard guys who can't move or talk or anything while they're on duty."

"I wouldn't start messing with them," Vhetin said, not looking back at the younger Mando. "They may be called _toy soldiers_ , but those rifles they're holding are real."

"Right. You have a point there."

"Keep up," Vhetin murmured. "We don't want to be late for Pelano's meeting."

"And how is this going to help us find your attacker? Meeting with a stuffy old Imperial isn't my idea of intel gathering."

"First," Vhetin said, "Pelano is not a _stuffy old Imperial_. He's a Moff and therefore holds very powerful sway over various branches of the military and Imperial Intelligence. He reports to Palpatine himself for _te Manda's_ sake."

"Impressive, but how could he help us?"

"I have a hunch that he'll know enough. Maybe he'll surprise you."

"A hunch?" Venku echoed as they turned a corner and passed beyond the stormtrooper guards. "That's why we're here? A _hunch_?"

"What, you never get a feeling about something?"

The younger Mando paused, long enough to cause Vhetin to turn and look over his shoulder. Venku was frowning and staring at the floor as they walked. He noticed Vhetin staring at him and shrugged. "I guess. But I'm getting a feeling right now that this is going to be a waste of time."

"Just trust me," Vhetin said with a sigh. "I've worked with Imps many times before. I know what I'm doing."

"Trust you," Venku chuckled. "I wonder how many times you've fed Jay that line."

"What do you mean?" Vhetin said, slowing to a halt and folding his arms.

Venku paused and chuckled, a little nervousness creeping into his voice. "Well, Stripes, you have to admit that you aren't really the easiest guy to work with. You just talked about having a hunch and I'm getting a hunch right now that you know more about this than you're letting on."

"And why would I do that? The guy tried to _kill_ me."

"That's precisely why," Venku said. "This is more or less a personal concern. And if I know you – which I do – then you'll see that as the perfect excuse to play this close to the chest."

Vhetin bit back a curse. The multi-colored Mando was closer to the truth than he realized. "That's not the way I operate."

Venku threw his head back and laughed. "Are you kidding me? That's _exactly_ the way you operate. You part with information on a need-to-know basis. Sometimes not even that."

Vhetin scowled behind his helmet. "Even if that were the case, you'd just have to play along. This isn't some kind of high-rate investigative op. This is a simple capture scenario: we find the guy, subdue the guy, and we find out exactly who he is."

In truth, he hadn't really thought that far ahead. What would he do if – when – he actually captured the Tracker? The whole operation he had been claiming that he was just as stumped as everyone else and that as soon as they caught the Tracker all the mysteries would be solved.

In truth, the last thing he wanted was the Tracker coming clean with everything he knew.

He sighed as he and Venku set off again. He needed an ally in this, someone who would understand his position. Normally he'd go to Brianna…

Just the thought of her sent a fresh spike of pain through his heart. He made a conscious effort to push thoughts of his girlfriend–

 _Ex-girlfriend_ , he corrected himself.

– to the back of his mind. He had to focus on the more important matters at hand. This was truly a life-or-death situation and he couldn't allow thoughts of something so obviously distracting to penetrate his focus.

 _Allies_ , he thought, wracking his mind. _Allies_ _… who can I find who will help out? It has to be someone trustworthy… someone I don't have to keep secrets from… and someone who'll be bored enough to not turn me down._

He bit back a grin and entered a comm number into the window in his HUD. He waited as he walked, listening to the dull hailing tones. Hopefully the man he was thinking of wouldn't be busy. Finally, someone picked up on the other end.

"State your business," said a deep voice with a heavy Coruscanti accent.

"Tarron. Nice to hear from you."

"Vhetin?" the voice said in surprise. "Fierfek, I was wondering when you would call."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm holding my own," the man said. "Medical bills are through the roof, but apart from that…"

"I'll pay them as soon as I'm out of this mess. Are you ready to get back in the action?"

"I'm not sure the doctors would let me off so soon."

"Come on. Surely the great Journeyman Protector Tarron Matele could sneak out of a Hapan medcenter."

"Are you close to ending this? Have you found the Tracker?"

"I'm on his tail," Vhetin replied, his voice darkening. "It's almost over."

"You do realize that even if you manage to track him down, it won't change a thing. You'll just have another psychopath on your tail by the end of the month."

"It'll buy me time. Time enough to plan my next move."

"You know what Project Whiteclaw wants with you."

"I do."

"Then you know you shouldn't be risking so much," Tarron said. "If they get hold of you…"

"They won't," Vhetin reassured him.

"Have you told Brianna? I know she'd be upset if she knew you were in such danger."

He hesitated for a long time. "No. And I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

He sighed and shook his head, not caring that the man couldn't see it. "I'll explain later."

"What about your partner?"

"I don't want to get Jay involved in all of this," he said. "She's been loyal to me over the past year. Dragging her into my problems would be little more than a cheap exploitation of that loyalty."

"Your sense of logic never ceases to amaze me."

"Look," Vhetin said impatiently, "I don't have time to explain everything to everyone. The Tracker has tried to kill me twice already and people are starting to ask questions that make me uncomfortable. I need someone I can trust watching my back."

"Isn't that your partner's job?"

Vhetin bit back a curse. "Tarron, you know why I can't rely on her. She doesn't have a clue what's really going on here. You do."

There was a long pause over the comm. "So you're choosing to bring in an outside player instead of simplifying all this by just coming clean? Why?"

Vhetin scowled. "I have my reasons."

"Of course you do," Tarron sighed. There was another long pause before he said, "Fine. I'll be there in a few hours. If you really need help that badly, I can't refuse."

" _Vor'e, vod_. You know how to find me."

"Yes. I'll just follow the screams and explosions all the way to where I'll find all your loved ones fuming over the fact that they're just trying to help you and you keep-"

Vhetin shook his head and hung up.

Annoying as it was, Tarron had a point. He scowled and thought, _When will the lies stop? When will the secrets end?_

But he knew the answer. The secrets wouldn't end as long as he was there to perpetuate them. There were only two ways his problems would come to a swift and speedy conclusion: if he managed to silence the Tracker for good, allowing him to continue with the lies, or if the Tracker managed to bring him down.

Neither of those outcomes was appealing.

He put his doubts out of his mind, at least for the time being, when they turned a final corner and the security checkpoint outside Pelano's office came into view. There were two Imperial Guards with deadly force pikes standing outside. Their deep blue armor signified them as part of the lower tier of the elite Guard force, but Vhetin didn't believe for a moment that they weren't dangerous.

One of the blue-armored Guards stepped forward and raised a gloved hand. "Halt. I know Moff Pelano has agreed to speak with you, but you can't pass this checkpoint without relinquishing your weapons."

Vhetin nodded. "Okay. We're not here to pick a fight."

It took a while for both Vhetin and Venku to relinquish their weapons – which also constituted a good deal of their armor – and turn them over to the Blue Guards. Once done, the Imperials passed a handheld scanner over the both of them to search for any ingested explosives.

"Come on," Venku said as the second Blue Guard scanned him. "Do you really think we came all this way to blow the Moff up?"

"Can't be too careful," the Imperial grunted. "You'd be surprised at the imagination of assassins these days."

It didn't take long for the scanning to be finished. Once done, the Blue Guards stepped back and once again flanked the door, shouldering their force pikes.

"You can head through now," the first Guard said. "But don't try anything stupid. Remember, we're just outside the door."

"I'll keep that in mind," Vhetin said and motioned for Venku to follow him through the heavy durasteel door before them. Inside was a surprisingly small office with a transparisteel window that looked out over a vast ocean seascape. There was a small island in the distance, little more than a dark spot on the horizon.

Pelano himself was sitting at a desk that was overflowing with sheets of flimsi. He looked very similar to how Vhetin remembered from his past encounters with the man: a human male of lanky build with red hair and a short moustache and beard. His pale gray Moff uniform was pressed until the creases of his suit looked razor-sharp. He looked up at them and his expression darkened.

Vhetin took a step forward and unconsciously stood at attention, hooking his arms behind his back. "Nice to hear from you again, Lonesh."

"That's Moff Pelano to you," the man said, slowly standing from his chair and setting down his writing stylus. "And you can stop standing at attention. We both know you are no longer a member of the military."

"You were in the military?" Venku echoed. Vhetin motioned him to shut up with a quick swipe of his hand.

Pelano stared at Venku and said, "And who is your colorful friend?"

"Moff Pelano, this is Venku Skirata, a fellow Mandalorian. Venku, this is the former Captain, former Governor, current Moff Pelano."

"Yes," Pelano said with a dry smile, "I am well aware of your influence in my recent promotions. But I tell you now that no matter what positive events your actions may have caused in the past, I will _not_ allow you or your trigger-happy compatriots to run amok on Mon Calamari."

"Calm down, Pelano," Vhetin said. "This job is strictly non-lethal."

"And since when have you ever attempted a non-lethal course of action?"

"Ha ha."

Pelano stepped out from behind his desk and hooked his arms behind his back, raising his chin imperiously. "As the ultimate authority here, I am compelled to inquire as to why you are here."

Vhetin sighed. "I was attacked yesterday by an assassin who kept his identity concealed. I chased him across the capital city of Mandalore and tracked him to the local spaceport. He escaped here."

Something flashed in Pelano's eyes. Alarm at having an armed assassin loose on his planet, perhaps? The look passed quickly, though, and the Imperial said, "Tell me what you know."

"Is that an order?" Vhetin inquired. "As you so eloquently put it, I am no longer a member of the military."

"It is a friendly request for information," the Imperial said, "from one lover of justice to another."

Vhetin considered, then said, "To be frank, we don't know much. We know that he is highly dangerous, likes to ambush his targets, and is sneakier than I originally gave him credit for."

"Name?"

"The Tracker."

Vhetin's 360-degree HUD vision showed Venku staring at him with a suddenly suspicious gaze. He ignored the younger Mando.

"Do you know anything about him?" he asked Pelano. "Like I said, this guy has attacked me. I don't want him to be able to keep trying."

"I can't give you any answers," the Moff said. "But it is with great reluctance that I admit I will keep the eyes and ears of the Empire open for information."

Vhetin bowed his head slightly. "I appreciate it."

"Now kindly leave," Pelano said, "and make sure you close the door securely behind you."

Vhetin nodded and turned to leave, gesturing for Venku to follow. They were silent until they were out the door and had turned the corner. Then Venku rounded on Vhetin and said, "So, _ner vod_. Now our attacker has a name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Venku raised an eyebrow. " _The Tracker_? What's that, just your pet name for him?"

"I just made it up," Vhetin said, lying through his teeth. "You know, since he's _tracking_ me from planet to planet."

Venku narrowed his eyes. "You know how we were talking about hunches? Well I'm getting one right now. And it says you're _jahaatir_."

"Lying? Why would you think that?"

"Like I said," Venku muttered, taking a step back, "just a hunch. And my hunches tend to turn out right."

He turned away and said, "You don't want to come clean, that's fine. But consider what I said before you come up with more _osik_ to cover up what's really going on here."

Vhetin stared after the multi-colored Mando and muttered a curse. Then he picked up the pace and strode after him.

 

**Gredon City Law Enforcement Office, Mon Calamari**

"So let me get this straight," Officer Cartman said slowly, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers, "you are a bounty hunter. And your partner, who is a Mandalorian, is being hunted down by a mysterious assassin who has fled here to Gredon City. And you want my help to track him down?"

Jay sighed. "Well when you put it like that…"

Cartman, a portly man in his mid-forties, sat back in his seat and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble believing your story. I want to believe you, I really do, but do you have any evidence of what you're saying?"

"Will my gun prove that I'm a bounty hunter?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a concealed carry permit?"

Jay hesitated. "Um…"

"Do you have a bounty hunter's license?"

"You need a license to be a bounty hunter?"

He nodded sympathetically. "Now, I won't write you up on these infringements since you're coming to me for help, but are you certain you can't find some kind of evidence?"

She thought hard for a moment, then pulled her comm from her pocket and dialed out a comm code. After two hailing tones, a familiar voice answered.

"Tell me you managed to find something, Jay," Venku's voice said.

"Not quite. But I need some help from you."

"Shoot, _ner vod_."

"Help me out," she said. "What does _ner vod_ mean?"

"It's… It's a _Mando'a_ word for _my friend_. But you know that. It was like one of the first Mandalorian words you learned."

Jay looked up at Cartman and raised an eyebrow. "Is that proof enough?"

"Not quite… if you could provide me with a holographic image-"

Jay pushed a button on her comm unit and a head-and-shoulders image of Venku sprang to life in mid-air. His traditional Mandalorian battle helmet and his multi-colored armor plates were unmistakable even over the flickering bluish hologram. He let out a cry of surprise when he saw Cartman and cried, "Holy _osik!_ Who the hell are you and what did you do with Jay?"

"Calm down," Jay said, turning the cam to face her. "I just needed to prove that you're really a Mandalorian."

"Want me to come down there and rough up a couple of those enforcement officers? Do the whole _no-good-to-me-dead_ Fett routine?"

"No," Jay said. "Thanks for offering, though. You could help out with one more thing."

"And what's that?"

"Describe the guy we're hunting."

Venku shrugged. "We've apparently got a name for him now. Vhetin's calling him the Tracker."

"Fitting name."

"He thought so too. Anyway, as far as describing him… from what I've seen in him, he's ruthless, sneaky, and trigger-happy. When he first attacked Vhetin, he started shooting at the first living thing he saw. I think it's safe to say he's not frightened by the thought of collateral damage."

"Thanks, Venku."

"Oh, wait! Wait! We just got out of our meeting with Moff Pelano and he said we have permission to continue our hunt."

"Moff Pelano?" Cartman echoed quietly.

"So we have the Empire's blessing?" Jay said, raising an eyebrow at the enforcement officer.

"They're doing all but giving us a stormtrooper guard to assist us."

"Thanks for the intel update."

He saluted lazily and the hologram sputtered out. Jay tucked the comm unit into her pocket and leaned forward, folding her hands as Cartman had done only minutes before.

"What do you think now?"


	9. Hello Again, Tish

**Gredon City Spaceport**

Jay found Venku sitting on a bench outside the docking bay, helmeted head tipped back and staring up at the clear blue sky. She stared at him for a few moments, then nudged his foot hard enough to catch his attention. He started, sitting up and looking around wildly.

"Are you reading up on intel files?" Jay asked, the  hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Or did you fall asleep inside your helmet again?"

He nodded groggily, shaking his head to clear it. "Uh, yeah... definitely reading."

"Right," she said. She folded her arms and said, "Have you seen Cin? I need to talk to him."

He nodded toward the closed hangar bay blast doors. "Yeah, he stalked in there about twenty minutes ago and locked the door behind him. Wouldn't let me in."

"He locked himself in?" she asked, staring at the heavy door.

He settled back on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. "Why else would I be out here reading? I could just as easily read onboard _Void_."

"Why would he do that?"

Venku shrugged. "I don't know. He seemed crankier than usual."

He cocked his head slightly and said, "I thought I heard a ship landing in there, but there's a lot of air traffic around this area of the spaceport. I could be mistaken."

She frowned, very confused now. Why would Vhetin barricade himself inside the spaceport without so much as talking to anyone? He'd acted strangely already over the course of this hunt, but the seriousness of the situation made his behavior even more worrysome. He should have been sticking close to Jay or Venku so he couldn't be picked off by a sniper while cut off from his allies.

"I'm going to go see what's wrong with him," she said, setting off toward the docking bay door.

"Oh, okay," Venku said. "I'll just, uh... go back to my reading."

"I'd advise turning off your helmet vocoder," she called back to him. "That way no one will hear you snore."

Then she turned to the door and hit the opening key on the control panel mounted on the wall. It buzzed, but the door didn't move. She frowned, hit the button again, and was met with the same result.

 _Well,_ she thought, _I guess I'll have to get a little unorthodox_. Then she reached down and pulled the vibroblade from her boot, making sure not to activate the vibration settings. She wedged the blade under the cover of the control panel and pried it off, pulling out the tangle of wires that was crammed inside. She pulled apart three wires that led toward what she assumed was the door controls: a red wire, a green wire, and a blue wire. She looked through them and frowned.

 _Cutting the wrong wire might lock the door down and make it impossible to get it open_ , she thought, weighing the wires in her palm. She frowned and followed the green wire as it tangled around the rest and disappeared into the control panel's interior closest to the door. That was probably her best bet.

She thought, _here goes nothing_ , then severed the wire. She narrowed her eyes against a sudden shower of sparks, then bit back a grin as the doors slowly slid open. She sheathed her knife down her boot again, then stepped through the door and into the hangar bay.

Venku had been right about a ship landing. There was an elegantly designed shuttle resting across the pad from _Void_. It looked vaguely Imperial in design, but was covered in graceful, swooping designs that gave the ship a gentle, rounded look.

Vhetin himself was standing in the center of the pad, his back to her. He was talking to someone, his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm in control of the situation," he was saying. "I'm not dead yet."

"And exactly how long do you expect that streak to last?" said another voice. It was deeper than Vhetin's and had a strong Coruscanti accent. It almost sounded like...

She took a step to the side, looking around Vhetin's shoulder to see their visitor. She stopped in her tracks when she saw exactly it was.

" _Tarron_?" she said disbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

When he came into full view, she saw that the Journeyman Protector was a mess. His normally handsome face was a purple-black mass of bruises and lacerations. His lower lip was cut,  his left eye was swollen shut, and he had a long cut across his forehead. It looked like he'd been beaten to a pulp by a rampaging Wookiee.

"Ah," he said, smiling at her. Strangely, that only made him look worse. "It's good to see you again Jay."

"Same to you," she said slowly. She failed to hide a grimace at his features. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh, this?" he said, gesturing to his wounds. "I tripped down the stairs. Back on Hapes."

"You tripped?" she echoed skeptically.

He smiled again, then winced painfully. "Clumsy, clumsy me."

She was about to say more, certain he was lying to her. Bldefore she could speak, though, Vhetin slowly turned to her and murmured, "I thought the door was locked."

She raised her chin, not without pride. "It was."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I wanted to know how your trip to Imperial Command went," she asked. "You vanished before you could tell us anything."

"It went fine," he replied. "Pelano has given us permission to continue our search. But we're on a short leash. He still doesn't trust us, even after what we've done on Mon Cal and Xexeron. What about you?"

"Officer Cartman was a little reluctant at first," she said, "but he's going to get as much of the precinct as he can working on hunting the Tracker down."

"That should put pressure on him," Tarron said. "If he's forced to dodge Imperial forces and us..."

"Are you joining in?" Jay asked.

He nodded. "Vhetin asked for my help. Since you guys haven't had much luck, he probably figured you needed the expertise of a Journeyman Protector supporting you."

"So you're providing fire support?"

"Not quite," he said. "More than being an extra gun, I also happen to know the location of a certain Nautolan information broker. Vhetin wants to find Tish Wouta, so he asked me to tag along."

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow and turning to her partner. "And I always thought you were the independent one, Cin."

"All I care about is bringing the Tracker down," the Mandalorian replied. "I'll fall back into the independent type once there isn't a trigger-happy madman trying to gun me down."

He stepped past her and strode toward the still-open doors. "Armor up, Jay," he called over his shoulder. "We're going to pay our old friend Wouta a visit."

She nodded and was about to speak when he tersely continued, "Oh, and the next time you see a locked door? Mind your own business and leave it locked."

Then he strode through the door, kicked Venku back awake as he passed, then disappeared around a corner. Jay stared after him, frowning at her partner's behavior. She had never seen him so tense, even on their most dangerous contracts. It almost seemed like the more danger he found himself in, the more and more he pushed his friends away.

"He may not look it," Tarron said, as if he could read her mind, "but he's not angry. I don't even think he's over-stressed."

She shook her head. "What do you think is with him?"

"The truth? He's scared."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Vhetin, scared? I didn't know that was possible."

"He's human like everyone else. Or at least that's the general consensus."

"He went head-to-head with a Barabel. And won. He wasn't scared then."

Tarron shrugged. "Like I said, he's just like any of us. And sometimes, when these contracts hit so close to home..."

"So close to home?" Jay echoed. "Who said that this had anything to do with Vhetin's personal life?"

Tarron hesitated, then said, "I'm sure I've said too much already. Suffice it to say that Brianna leaving him, plus this whole deal with the Tracker... it's just a bit much for him to handle now. And the Tracker isn't your run-of-the-mill gun for hire."

He smiled at her, then winced as he put stress on his bruises. "Lucky for him he's got you watching his back."

She looked after her partner, then slowly nodded. "We should probably get moving."

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin stood on the side of the street outside the spaceport, staring out at the city and taking note of the myriad of information his HUD. It showed the velocity of the speeders that raced by, information panels on the businesses that owned buildings across the street, and weather reports that predicted a mild tropical storm later in the afternoon.

He sighed and closed all the windows. The backdraft kicked up from the speeders that flashed past made his _kama_ flutter about his legs.

 _So,_ he thought, _back to Tish Wouta. I hope the tentacle-head has the information we need. Dealing with him always leaves a bad taste in my mouth._

It wasn't surprising. Last time he'd dealt with Wouta, the Nautolan had been difficult and uncooperative. That may have been partly because he didn't like meeting his contacts face-to-face and partly because Vhetin had punched him in the face before their conversation started.

He didn't expect this conversation to go any better. He made sure he was bringing his pistols and his lightsaber pike along just in case.

He wondered if he should call Brianna and tell her how events were unfolding on Mon Calamari. The thought of her made his heart sink and he eventually decided against it. She probably wouldn't pick up the comm to talk to him anyway.

"Hey," came a familiar voice from his shoulder. He turned slowly to find Jay standing behind him, a sympathetic look on her face.

"What do you need?" he said quietly, turning back to the street. With the blink of an eye he brought every information screen back up again and resumed reading through them.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she said, stepping up next to him.

"Where are Tarron and Venku?"

"Still in the spaceport, securing us transportation to Wouta's area of the city." She looked at him with a frown and said, "You're avoiding the question."

He sighed and the information screens disappeared again. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"It's not your problem," he said. "I can handle what's happening here."

"Can you?" she said. "You're not invincible, Cin. It's not weakness to admit that you need help from time to time."

"I'm _fine_ ," he repeated. He purposely changed the subject. "What did Officer Cartman say he'd do to help us?"

"No," she said, stepping in front of him. She poked his chest plates with a fingertip and said, "Don't do this. Don't push my away like I'm still some naive rookie. I'm your partner, and it's my duty to help you."

She sighed and said, "Look... I'm sorry about everything that's happened over the last few days. But Brianna isn't the only one who cares about you."

He stared at her, cocking his head. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I've been there with you for every crisis you've faced over the past year. Kassh, Durge, Oppo Tor, Draco..."

She looked into his expressionless faceplate, obviously looking for any sign of gratitude from him. He knew his armor didn't show any.

Her face slowly turned down in a scowl. She evnetually shook her head and stepped away. "But I guess if you still can't see that I'm here for you, none of that's meant a damn thing."

She moved to walk away, but he caught her arm as she passed. She stopped short, glaring at him.

"Don't think I don't appreciate everything you've done over the last year," he said, head bowed. "You... you've kept me on my toes, Jay, kept me from flying over the edge and becoming some kind of murderous machine like Fett. And I'm grateful for that. I think I made one of the best decisions of my life when I rescued you from BlueSend prison."

She stared at him, then said, "I wish I could believe you. But I know you don't think that way."

He held her gaze. "I do now."

She slowly pulled her arm from his grip. "Okay... prove it."

"What?"

She cocked her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "What was your name? Before you came to Mandalore."

"What?" he said again.

"I know Cin Vhetin wasn't your born name. What was it?"

He hesitated, debating whether or not to answer her. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "You really want to know?"

She nodded silently, eyes flashing in a mixture of expectation and excitement at learning more about his past. Vhetin spotted Venku and Tarron approaching from behind them and was about to break off the conversation when he saw Tarron grab Venku's arm and hold him back. Tarron's lips formed the words _leave them alone a minute. They're talking about something fairly important._

So Tarron wasn't going to let Vhetin off easy either. Figured. He let out a long, quiet breath and finally said to Jay, "I guess if I'm going to tell you that, I should tell you everything."

Her eyes flashed again. She had obviously not been expecting that. "What? You'd do that?"

"You wanted a good faith gesture," he said, noticing that his heart was suddenly racing. He spotted Venku arguing with Tarron, saying _important or no, we need to get moving._

"I take it that will suffice?" he said, ignoring the two behind him.

She nodded again, looking more excited by the moment. He stared at her for a time, then nodded back and began, "It's a long story, but you'll have to bear with me. Seven years ago, I-"

"Are you two ready to head out?"

They both turned to find  Venku heading toward them, looking at Vhetin expectantly. Jay glanced at him, then back to Vhetin and said, "Uh, Venku, can we have a minute here? We're kind of in the middle of something."

"I don't know if you've noticed this," Venku said, "but somewhere out there, there's a psychopathic Mandalorian-hunter who seems to have an uncanny sense for where we're hiding out. It's not smart to stay in one place for too long."

"Yeah," Jay said, "but this is really kind of-"

"No," Vhetin said, siezing the excuse, "Venku's right. We should get moving. We'll continue this conversation later, Jay."

 _If there is a later_ , he added silently. He saw Tarron shaking his head from further back, as if disappointed in him. Jay stared at him, then her shoulders slumped and she muttered, "If you say so."

She glanced over at Tarron and called, "You coming? Like Venku said, we should probably get going. If the Tracker is on our tail, it's not a good idea to stay in one place for long."

Vhetin sighed as they set off, partly in exasperation and partly in relief. Jay sighed as well, though it wasn't hard to tell that it was out of disappointment. She threw a regretful look at Vhetin and shrugged as if to say, _maybe later_.

"You said you have Wouta's location?" Vhetin asked as Tarron fell into step with them.

The Journeyman Protector nodded and said, "Follow me and I'll get you there in one piece."

He set off down the street at a quicker pace, Venku following close behind. Vhetin glanced at Jay and shrugged. She pointed a finger at him and said, "This conversation isn't over."

"I didn't think it would be," he sighed.

She nodded, satisfied at least for the moment, then turned and followed Tarron and Venku down the street. Vhetin stared after her, then stepped after them, quickening his pace to keep up.

 _That was too close_ , he thought. Jay had caught him off-guard with her anger. He'd been on the verge of spilling everything to her and wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from revealing the truth if she asked again.

The truth was that he was tired of all the deception. He was sick of always hiding behind his faceplate and keeping his past from his partner. He had long ago decided that she deserved to know the truth, but he had never been able to gather the courage to finally come clean. He didn't like talking about himself in the first place, but when it concerned such a sensitive subject it was even worse. He had promised himself to never talk about what had happened to him and had made everyone who knew the truth to promise the same. Rame, Mia, Brianna...

"Hey Vhetin," Tarron suddenly called from further up the street. "Head up here and walk with me, will you?"

Vhetin frowned, but increased his pace and fell into step next to the Journeyman Protector. "What's the problem?"

"You."

"Come again?"

Tarron lowered his voice and said, "You aren't yourself."

"Really," Vhetin said skeptically. Tarron's narrow view of his problems irritated him. "I can't imagine why."

"Don't get angry-"

"No, I mean I've only been dumped by the woman I love, only to be chased from Mandalore by sadistic Imperials who have hired a psychopathic hunter to track me down and beat me to a pulp."

He scowled behind his helmet and snapped, "Why the _hell_ would I be stressed out?"

Tarron stared at him and said, "Listen, I know you've been going through some rough times. But know that pushing people away isn't going to help you. Not this time."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Vhetin muttered.

"I know that for someone who's supposedly broken up over his girlfriend leaving, you haven't learned anything. You're making the exact same mistakes all over again."

"What are you talking about?"

Tarron jerked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward Jay. "She's trying to help you. And you keep pushing her away, just like you did Brianna. Do you want to be met with the same result?"

Vhetin shook his head. "The last thing I need is a lecture from you."

"And why is that? Because you know I’m right?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vhetin muttered. “You think you can take one look at what’s going on and instantly know what’s happing inside my head as well?”

“I think I know more about you and your partner than you think,” Tarron said darkly. “And you want to know what I’ve seen?”

“Do share.”

“When she’s plunged into situations like this, Jay’s first instinct is to reach out to other people. She bands together with others when she’s frightened or stressed. But you? You shut yourself off from others the moment something bad happens. You start doing your best impression of a brick wall, pushing everyone you care about away from you.”

“So all of a sudden serving in the Hapan royal court makes you a psychiatrist?”

“Damn it Cin, this is what I’m talking about! Can’t you see that you can’t take the Tracker alone?”

“I’ve fought tougher. Oppo Tor, Boba Fett, Durge…”

“And did you take them all on single-handed?”

Vhetin paused. It was true that Jay had been with him during all his most dangerous contracts over the past year. But… but he’d always come out on top with or without her help. He’d survived working with the Imperials, after all, even when Darth Vader himself had placed a death sentence on his head.

But he hadn’t really done anything in those hectic days. He hadn’t gone saber-to-saber with Vader, beaten the Sith Lord into submission, and demanded that the Empire leave him alone. He’d just gone into hiding on Mandalore, only leaving his adopted home world when necessary. Only with Jay at his side did he finally begin to face his problems head-on instead of just running from them.

He watched his partner through the 360-degree wraparound display that ran along the top of his HUD. She was walking some distance behind them, thankfully out of earshot.Her disappointment at coming so close to hearing the truth about her partner's past seemed to have faded. She was talking with Venku about something, laughing occasionally.

 _Tarron_ _’s right_ , he was forced to admit. _That woman has bled for me. And I_ _’ve bled for her. It’s not fair that I keep her in the dark about all of this._

Tarron was staring at him, mistaking his contemplation for stubborn silence. He sighed and said, “Cin, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. As one of the few people who knows about what happened to you, I’m not about to lecture you on what’s fair and what isn’t.  I’m just asking you to think about what I’m saying. Because as much as you may hate to admit it-“

“She deserves better,” Vhetin murmured quietly, finishing Tarron’s sentence. As soon as the words passed through his helmet’s vocoder, it suddenly felt as if a steely resolve had settled into his mind. He would tell Jay about his past. _Everything_ about his past. She had fought by his side for the last year, never questioning his judgment, always knowing that he didn’t fully trust her but never calling him out on it. It was time that changed.

After so much loyalty, she had earned that much.

He finally nodded and said, “All right. I’ll come clean.”

Tarron nodded as well in relief. “Good. You may be able to handle all this tension, Stripes, but I’m not cut out for it.”

 _Brianna wasn_ _’t either_ , Vhetin thought grimly.

The Journeyman Protector glanced further up the street, then said, “Ah. Finally.”

He looked over his shoulder and called, “Step up the pace you two. We’re here.”

Jay and Venku were instantly at Vhetin’s side. Together, they emerged onto a busy street that looped around a complex of short rectangular buildings colored bluish-gray like all the other buildings in the city.

“Is this Wouta’s place?” Vhetin said, surveying the area. “It’s a lot tidier than his previous repair shop.”

“Wouta’s hit a lucky streak these past few months,” Tarron explained. “He traded up from his usual employers and fell in with the local mob.”

“Won’t that make our job even more dangerous?” Jay asked.

“Thankfully no,” Vhetin said. “The Mon Cal branch of Black Sun is pretty relaxed. They don’t care much about local events as long as everyone keeps out of their business.”

“Let’s go say hello, then,” Jay said.

Vhetin nodded and set off down the street. “Let me and Jay head in there first. Wouta’s a little skittish but he knows us. Once he agrees to let us in, you can move up.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Tarron said. Vhetin then motioned for his partner to follow and set off down the street.

~~~~~~~~

Jay watched the repair shop with a cautious eye. Wouta’s previous workplace, a submersible repair shop in Saiton City, had been a run-down dump. The pristine-looking repair shop where the Nautolan now supposedly worked seemed entirely wrong.

“Are you sure it’s safe to head in here?” Jay asked. They came to a halt while waiting to cross the road.

“Wouta probably won’t try anything,” Vhetin said reassuringly.

She shook her head. “It’s the _probably_ that’s got me nervous.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said as they jogged across the busy street. “Wouta’s a coward.”

“Even cowards can be dangerous. Guns don’t work solely on the bravery of the user.”

They finally reached the other side of the street and approached the front doors of the repair shop. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, “Last time we visited him, Wouta barricaded himself in his office. Who knows what he’ll do this time?”

“You’ve got a gun,” Vhetin pointed out. “I’ve got a lightsaber. What’s the worst he could do?”

Suddenly there was a loud _pow_ and one of the repair shop windows was blown outward by a bright red blaster bolt. Jay cursed and covered her head as shards of glass rained down around her. Other beings passing along the street screamed and ran for cover as blaster bolts ricocheted off lightposts or speeders in bright flashes of light and puffs of smoke. The entire street erupted into chaos as beings ran for their lives, shoving each other out of the way as they went.

“I know you’re out there, bucket-head!” shouted the deep, heavily accented voice of Tish Wouta from inside the repair shop. “You’re not coming in here!”

Jay grimaced as more blaster bolts shot out of the broken window. She looked over to her partner, who had pulled his lightsaber pike from its hook on his jetpack.

“You were saying?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

He ducked as a blaster bolt shot past his helmet faceplate, then said, “Damn. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"What are we going to do?"

He flexed his grip on his saber pike, his expressionless faceplate betraying no signs of nervousness or fear. "You wait here. I’m going to have a chat with our favorite information broker. Don’t come in until I call you.”

“Wait-“ she began, but she was too late. Vhetin had walked right up to the door, unlit saber pike in hand, and disappeared inside. The cheerful jingling of the bell hooked to the top of the door seemed to drown out all other sounds on the street.

Jay watched her partner vanish inside, then pressed her back against the wall, listening to his heavy bootsteps as he walked slowly across the lobby. After only a few moments, she heard him come to a halt.

“Wouta,” he said quietly. “Put the gun down.”

“Kriff that,” the Nautolan’s deep voice growled. “I know why you’re here, Vhetin. And I’m not going to help you.”

“We just need information.”

“He’ll know I helped you!”

There was a long pause from Vhetin, then he said, “You can either help us willingly and be paid for your information, or I can force you to help us.”

“Bucket-head _trash_!” Wouta shouted, then the repair shop lobby lit up with bright red blaster fire. Jay’s heart pounded in her chest. There was no way Vhetin could survive that.

Then the shots suddenly stopped and she heard a series of dull _thwack_ s, quickly followed by yelps of pain. Jay had heard that sound once before, when Vhetin had been hammering away on the training mannequin with his saber pike. After a few moments, the entire lobby fell silent. Then she heard heavy bootsteps heading for the door.

Vhetin poked his helmeted head through the door and said, “Okay. It’s clear.”

Jay slowly got to her feet, brushing shards of glass from the shoulders of her jacket. “You sure?”

“Wouta won’t be taking any more potshots for the moment,” he said, then disappeared inside again. She entered the building in time to see him put two fingers to the comm unit mounted on the side of his helmet and murmur, “Tarron, come in. The building is clear.”

“We’re on our way,” came the response.

Jay looked around the main lobby. It was a spacious area with a tiled floor, clean walls, and colorful posters of the newest sports-model speeders and luxury ships. It painted a stark contrast to the filth and decay of Wouta’s previous shop.

She turned her gaze to the front desk and found that the Nautolan himself was present, his hands and feet bound to the reception desk by a length of standard-issue Mandalorian whipcord. He was gagged with one of his own cleaning cloths and his huge black eyes stared at Vhetin with fury.

“Don’t glare at me like that,” Vhetin said, noticing his hostile gaze as well. “You brought this on yourself. What did you think would happen?”

Wouta replied with a string of muffled words that Jay was sure weren’t friendly.

The tinkling of the bell over the door made both Vhetin and Jay spin. Vhetin had a pistol in his hand and had it aimed at the intruder, a white-armored stormtrooper with an insignia on his chest plate that signified him as part of the local law enforcement division.

“What’s going on in here?” the trooper began, then froze as he saw the pistol aimed at his contoured white faceplate.

“Turn around,” Vhetin said quietly, “and leave. _Now_.”

The trooper slowly backed up, hands raised in surrender. Then he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Tarron and Venku passed him as he retreated further down the street.

“What was all that about?” Tarron asked as he stepped through the door.

“Nosy Imperials,” Vhetin said, holstering his weapon. “Nothing to be concerned with.”

Venku surveyed the shattered lobby window, then turned to Jay and said, “So I take it Wouta put up a fight?”

“He tried,” Vhetin said, turning his back and stepping toward Wouta.

Venku ignored him and nodded to Jay. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, touched by his concern. “I’m fine.”

Vhetin, meanwhile, had knelt in front of the Nautolan. He was flipping a vibroblade between his hands absently, a motion that made him look angry and menacing.

"If I untie you," he said quietly, "will you promise to behave?"

Wouta once again let off a stream of muffled curses, then fell quickly silent as Vhetin raised his knife. His large black eyes stared intently, following the blade as Vhetin waved it casually back and forth in front of his green-skinned face.

"I'm going to cut the whipcord now," Vhetin said quietly. "If you try to pull anything, just remember that you're facing down four heavily armed bounty hunters. If you get hostile again, we'll fry you before you can barely blink. Understand?"

Wouta slowly nodded, his greenish head tentacles twitching in irritation. His black eyes followed Vhetin as the bounty hunter stepped behind the chair and sliced through the whipcord lines.

As soon as the whipcord lines fell to the floor, Wouta yanked his arms free and spat out the gag. He rubbed his raw wrists  and let out a muttered curse. Wincing, he gingerly rose to his feet and said, "Every time you show up in town, bucket-head, I always end up bruised."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been shooting at me and my partner," Vhetin said.

"What do you want?"

"Like I said," Vhetin murmured, "information."

"Forget it. Last time I helped you, I had your trigger-happy girlfriend trying to kill me on one side and what was left of Jolee Uruc's gang on the other."

"Brianna isn't here this time," Vhetin muttered. "You won't have to worry about her."

Jay jumped in before her partner could get wrapped up in the memory of his now-ex-girlfriend. "We're looking for information on an assassin who traveled out here to Mon Cal. His name is-"

"The Tracker," Wouta said with a dark face. "I know."

"You do?" Jay asked, glancing at her partner. "How?"

"You aren't the only one who's gotten a visit from that helmeted freak. He dropped in on me earlier this morning."

Vhetin instantly had his saber pike in his hands with the blade activated. He raised it menacingly and said, "If this is a trap, Wouta..."

"It isn't a trap," Wouta grunted. "He wanted the same thing you do: information."

"About what?" Venku asked, folding his arms.

"You," Wouta said, staring at Vhetin. Jay glanced between the two, confused.

"Why would the Tracker go to you?" she asked. "If he went to you this morning, he wouldn't have had us on his tail. We only got here a few hours ago."

"I'm telling you," Vhetin snarled, lightsaber still raised, "it's a trap."

It's not a trap," Wouta grumbled.

"Give me one reason to believe that."

Wouta blinked his large eyes rapidly, a gesture of severe anger. "Oh, you want a reason? You want a kriffing reason?"

He began unbuttoning the oil-stained gray coverall he was wearing. He opened it almost all the way to his stomach, then pulled the two halves of the garment open, exposing his green-skinned chest. As soon as Jay saw him, she grimaced. Venku let out a quiet curse.

The Nautolan's chest was a mass of bruised and battered scar tissue. The wounds were bound hastily with bloodstained bandages.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tarron said. "You look like you were hit by a speeder bus."

"I think you know," Wouta grumbled, "you don't look too hot yourself."

Jay glanced between Wouta and Tarron now, noticing a similarity between the mechanic's wounds and those of the Journeyman Protector. If she didn't know better, she would say that the Tracker had attacked them both. She was about to ask when Wouta said, "What do you want?"

"Information," Vhetin said again.

"Yes, you said that. Let me guess: you want the Tracker's location."

"If you have it," Vhetin said quietly. "We'd be willing to pay."

"I don't think you have enough."

"Try me," Vhetin said, tossing the Nautolan a very high-denomination credit chip. Jay's eyes shot up as she watched Wouta snatch the chip out of the air. She hadn't known her partner carried so much cash on his person.

Wouta flipped the credit nimbly between his fingers before tucking it into his coverall pocket. "The Tracker's here in Gredon City. That's all the intel you'll get out of me."

"Wouta," Jay said warningly. "I think Vhetin's already pissed off enough. Don't make this any worse."

"You can kiss my neon green ass, Moqena," Wouta growled. "You're on my turf now."

"And you're the only one in this room who's unarmed," she pointed out. "Don't push your luck."

"I'm feeling generous," Vhetin said. "You'll get one more chance."

He tossed another high-denomination chip. "Start talking."

Wouta stared at the credit chip in his hand, then sighed and gestured for them to follow him. He turned and pushed open a door marked _EMPLOYEES ONLY_. The room beyond was what looked like the maintenance bay. There were several speeders and private submersibles docked around the bay, all in various states of disrepair. Large boxes of tools rested nearby each speeder and mechanical tools were scattered across the floor.

Several mechanics of various species were standing around the maintenance bay, tools still in hand, watching Wouta and the bounty hunters with wide eyes. Wouta snapped at them in Huttese for a few moments before switching to Basic. "All of you, get out! Go, go!"

The mechanics jumped in surprise before scurrying away and disappearing through the back doors. After only a few tense seconds the repair bay was empty. Wouta spat a quiet curse and led them toward a holographic projector set up in the center of the bay. Jay had seen these kinds of holoprojectors before during her service with the Navy. They were used to display detailed schematics of ships or equipment but could also be used for standard holographic projections. They were standard Imperial tech, most likely stolen by Wouta's new Black Sun employers.

Wouta stepped up to the main control panel and quickly tapped in a few commands. The projector lights warmed to a dull blue before displaying a flickering map of Gredon City. Wouta tapped into the control panel again and the map spun and zoomed in on the Southeast section of the city.

"This is us," he said, pointing to a tiny collection of holographic buildings. "This morning, I was making a call on a wrecked speeder two blocks from the shop... here."

He pointed to a T-shaped street about three blocks away. He narrowed his eyes until they were little more than reflective black slits. "I was halfway through writing up an estimate of repairs when your Tracker dropped in on me. That freak blasted my client before working me over with a coolant pipe he ripped away from the undercarriage of the speeder."

"That's how you got the _osik_ beat out of you?" Venku said, resting his palms against the side of the holoterminal.

Wouta ignored him. "This Tracker guy kept asking about you, Vhetin. Where you were, what you were planning. He was quite insistent."

"Where did he go?"

"At first I didn't know," Wouta said. "While I was still in the medcenter, though, my employers-"

"Black Sun," Jay clarified. "I mean as long as we're sharing intel..."

Wouta glared at her, then said, "Yes, them. They sent out some investigators and tracked your guy down. They were going to send in an operative to neutralize him, but someone heard that you all were after him. They decided to step back and let you do all the hard work."

"How generous of them," Vhetin muttered.

"Do you want this nutcase's location or don't you?" Wouta snapped. "If so, keep your mouth shut and pay attention."

Both Jay and Vhetin fell silent and watched closely as Wouta zoomed out of the map. "The Black Sun investigator followed this guy to this section of the city, hoping to corner and kill him. He watched the Tracker go into this building here: an apartment complex near the refugee sector of the city."

“He’s a refugee?” Venku asked.

“Not exactly,” Jay explained. “Criminals sometimes use a city’s refugee sector as a hideout, since local law enforcement doesn’t really give a _shab_ about what goes on. You can thank the Empire for that.”

Venku shook his head and let out a quick breath. “I never thought I’d see the day I would thank the Empire for anything.”

“Sometimes their idiocy pays off,” Vhetin murmured, leaning closer to the hologram. “It happens more often than you would think.”

He turned to Wouta and said, “Do you have the address of the apartment?”

“I'll send the location to your datapad. He’s staying on the top floor, Room Twenty-Three,” Wouta said, straightening and shutting off the holoprojector. “The Black Sun investigator says he spends a couple hours there every day, then is gone for the rest of the time.”

He folded his arms across his chest and said, “If you want to lay a trap, it would be there.”

He glared at Vhetin. “Is that enough intel for you? Or would you like me to draw you a diagram detailing how to get there?”

Vhetin ignored the jibe and instead inclined his head in a gesture of thanks. “We won’t forget the help you gave us. Thank you.”

Wouta responded with a powerfully rude hand gesture.

“Yes, well we’d better be moving on,” Tarron said when Vhetin clenched a fist in anger. “Thank you for your help, Wouta.”

They were about to move toward the door when a vocoder-enhanced voice shattered the silence.

“ _Attention_ ,” the voice shouted. “ _This is Sergeant Mikale of the Gredon City Stormtrooper Garrison. We have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands up._ _”_

“Ah hell,” Vhetin sighed.

Venku looked around wildly. “Stormtroopers? Where the hell did they come from?”

Jay slowly unholstered her pistol, watching the maintenance bay windows cautiously. “Wouta sent potshots flying out of this shop. Civvies were running for their lives. You really don’t believe at least one would have called the local stormtrooper brigade?”

“ _If you have hostages_ ,” the stormtrooper’s voice shouted from outside, “ _send them out now, uharmed._ _”_

Wouta clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s my cue. Give the Tracker my best when you find him, will you?”

Wouta had taken two steps toward the door before Vhetin pulled his pistol and shot him twice in the back with stun rounds. The Nautolan crashed against a toolbox, bounced off, and hit the ground twitching. He did not rise again.

Jay fixed her partner with a skeptical gaze. “Was that really necessary?”

“No,” he replied evenly, holstering his pistol. “But it sure was fulfilling.”

“I'll bet," she said, rolling her eyes. "In the meantime, those stormtroopers are still outside. Any idea how we can get out of this?"

He looked around the maintenance bay, his helmet rangefinder sliding down to scanning position. "Give me a minute..."

"We may not have that," Tarron reminded them. "Imperials aren't known for their patience."

He gestured to Vhetin. "We also have to exercise extreme caution. We're on the Imperial's good side for the moment. If we go out fighting and they see us, that will change quickly."

He looked around the room. "If they so much as spot a Mandalorian faceplate, they're going to bring more attention to us than we'll want. We'll need a disguise of some kind."

Jay paid little attention to the conversation from that point on, instead turning her attention to the maintenance bay and looking for something that could help them escape. She quickly spotted a stack of welding masks. The reflective black visors would obscure their faces, but not at the expense of any situational awareness. The only problem was that she could only see two.

Then something else caught her eye, just behind the masks. She turned her gaze up and eyed one of the large submersibles that was resting on support struts a few feet away. She stepped up to it, pulling a handheld scanner from her belt and holding it up in front of a nearby control panel. It scanned for a few moments before displaying a progress report showing that the majority of the sub's systems were down, save for oxygen scrubbers, ballast systems, and...

 _And the engines_ , she thought with a grin.

Venku noticed her smile and stepped closer. "Jay? Do you have an idea?"

She nodded. "I do."

"What is it?"

"The greatest door breach of all time."


	10. The Greatest Door Breach of All Time

The Tracker strode up to the stormtrooper line that surrounded the repair shop, inconspicuously clad in a stolen suit of white trooper armor. He had the helmet clipped to his belt so the bright, flashing HUD wouldn't distract him. He spotted a real stormtrooper aiming a rifle at the repair shop's front doors, leaning against a speeder parked on the roadside to steady his shot.

"What's the situation?" the Tracker asked.

The trooper turned his helmeted head slightly. "We had a report of an urban disturbance in this sector of the city. Apparently someone was firing blaster shots out through the windows of this shop. Eyewitnesses have said that four bounty hunters went inside soon after. We think they have hostages."

"And how is the sergeant dealing with the situation?"

The trooper shrugged and nodded toward another stormtrooper standing further down the line. "See for yourself."

The Tracker watched as the indicated trooper took a step forward, his helmet vocoder turned up to full blast, and shouted, " _This is Sergeant Mikale again. Send out your hostages or we're coming in to get them!"_

The Tracker shook his head. That wasn't going to get the troopers anywhere. Vhetin was as stubborn as bounty hunters came and if that trooper kept up his shouting, he'd only succeed in goading Vhetin into a fight.

He stepped forward, intending to have a word with the sergeant, when a low rumble drowned out the shouting of the troopers in the perimeter line. Troopers began straightening and looking around in confusion. The Tracker slowly pulled his heavy-duty pistol, narrowing his eyes and thinking, _where is that coming from?_

The sergeant turned to the troops behind him and shouted at them to tighten the perimeter. The Tracker agreed with the tactic. The bounty hunters inside were obviously trying something. But what?

Suddenly there was a deafening _crack_ and the entire front wall of the repair shop exploded outward in a shower of dust and heavy chunks of duracrete. Troopers were knocked off their feet as large projectile pieces of the building's wall bowled them over. The Tracker ducked as a grayish-blue chunk of wall flew over his head.

After a few moments the force of the explosion began to fade. Bits of duracrete fell to the ground or skittered across the street and the dust from the eruption slowly began to clear. Further down the line, the stormtrooper sergeant shakily clambered to his feet and ordered his troops to calm down and reform the perimeter line. Every trooper that was still able staggered to their feet and once again pressed themselves against the line of speeders and duracrete barricades that formed the battle line. The sound of over fifty Imperial rifles charging up to fire consumed the Tracker's hearing.

He raised his own rifle, squinting as a shape began to appear through the fog of vaporized duracrete ahead of them. It was round, oblong, and distinctly mechanical.

The Tracker's eyes slowly widened. _Is that... is that a_ submarine?

Sure enough, the dissipating smoke revealed a half-wrecked, grayish submersible resting on the street in front of the trooper's battle line. Even as the Tracker watched, an exit hatch on the side of the vehicle split open and an exit ramp slid out and hit the ground with a dull _thud_.

An armored boot hit the destroyed surface of the street. The Tracker squinted through the haze in front of him, tightening his grip on his rifle as a figure dressed in black and gray armor strode into the sunlight, hefting two heavy-duty blaster pistols. A similar figure clad in brown battle armor followed the first, this one shouldering a rifle. Both were wearing what looked like reflective black welding masks over their faces. As the Tracker watched, the two strode toward the police line as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

The stormtrooper sergeant seemed to stare at the two in disbelief, then stepped back and shouted, “ _Blast them!_ ”

Every stormtrooper present opened fire at the two, lighting the street up with glowing red rifle fire. The brown-armored figure ducked back inside the grounded submarine and returned fire while the man in black erupted into a blur of motion and sprinted for the stormtrooper battle line. He front-flipped effortlessly over a duracrete traffic barricade and landed on his feet, already firing. Within moments, troopers were felled by a storm of blue-white laser fire.

The Tracker cursed and sprinted toward Vhetin, raising his rifle and shouting, “Everyone down!”

His shout went unheard. Troopers were busy firing, shouting orders to each other, or screaming as they were blasted off their feet by enemy fire. As the Tracker sprinted forward, Vhetin raised his arm and unleashed a blaze of fire that roared out in a bright arc of orange-white flame. Troopers staggered away screaming, waving arms that crawled with three-foot tendrils of fire.

Vhetin smashed his way through the still-flaming troopers, firing at the ones who were still within range. He carved through the battle line almost effortlessly, unleashing his deadly warrior's grace on the simple troopers. The brown-armored bounty hunter picked off anyone Vhetin left behind, mowing down his targets with an efficiency that only came with years of combat experience.

The Tracker raised his rifle and squeezed off two shots at the most obvious threat, Vhetin. One missed completely while the other slammed into Vhetin's stomach plate. It made him stagger slightly, but he didn't stop or even slow down. He just threw his armored shoulder into a stormtrooper's chest plate and knocked the soldier off his feet. He then continued with a roundhouse kick that caught another trooper in the side of the helmet. The man went sprawling, knocking over a dumpster and spilling trash across the sidewalk.

The Tracker cursed and sprinted forward, raising his rifle again. Vhetin saw him coming and leveled his other arm. The Tracker barely had time to jump away before the Mandalorian fired a wrist-mounted anti-personnel rocket that tore up the duracrete and released a shockwave that slammed the Tracker against a speeder hood.

"Nice try, Tracker," Vhetin said, stepping forward and hefting his rifle. "You came close to getting me this time."

The Tracker coughed, tasting the metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. He struggled to rise to his hands and knees. "You sound very sure that you'll get away from this."

"You didn't manage to capture me last time," Vhetin growled, taking another step closer, "and you won't manage to bring me down now."

The Tracker scowled, then leaped to his feet and slammed a fist into Vhetin's borrowed mask. The reflective black surface of the mask cracked beneath the force of the blow and Vhetin himself was knocked back. The Tracker moved forward, scooping up his fallen rifle as he went.

"That was always your most obvious weakness, Vhetin," he said as the bounty hunter stumbled back to his feet. "You were always so confident in your own abilities. You never knew when you were beaten."

"Some would consider that a good quality."

"Not me," the Tracker said, then emptied his rifle's magazine into Vhetin's chest. Vhetin shouted in pain and crashed back onto the ground. The Tracker slammed his white-armored boot down on Vhetin's chest plates as he unhurriedly reloaded his weapon.

"I'm actually kind of disappointed," he said as he snapped back the blaster's charging rod. Once done, he aimed the rifle at Vhetin's masked face. A full magazine of ammunition would smash the mask and kill him instantly.  "The old Vhetin would have put up more of a fight. You've gone soft."

"Be careful what you wish for," Vhetin grunted, then suddenly grabbed the Tracker's ankles and arched his back, throwing the Tracker off balance. The Tracker was about to leap back into the fight when two blaster bolts ricocheted off the surface of the duracrete at his feet. He stumbled and turned to see the brown-armored bounty hunter sighting down his heavy-duty rifle at him. Enemy fire soon caused the man to take refuge inside the wrecked submersible again.

No longer pinned to the ground, Vhetin flipped nimbly back to his feet and grabbed his pistols again. But he didn't move to fire them. Instead, he holstered them and pulled two cylinders from belt clips next to the holsters.

The Tracker froze as Vhetin ignited two blue lightsabers, one in each hand. The bounty hunter spun them in blazing blue arcs in front of him before dropping into a combat-ready battle stance. The Tracker stared at him, then slowly lowered his rifle.

"You still disappointed?" Vhetin growled from behind his cracked faceplate.

The Tracker pulled a long-bladed cortosis vibroblade from his belt and flipped it nimbly between his fingers. "You're doing better. I'm starting to break a sweat."

Vhetin charged forward, spinning and slashing before the Tracker could even blink. He barely brought his vibroblade up in time to block a double blow to his chest. He slid the lightsabers away from his body and kicked out at Vhetin's armored chest. Vhetin absorbed most of the blow and responded by stabbing forward at the Tracker's chest. The Tracker spun out of the way, managing to knock one lightsaber out of the Mandalorian's grasp as he did. Vhetin instantly switched to a more powerful, two-handed grip on his remaining weapon.

Before he could attack, however, four other stormtroopers sprinted up and aimed their weapons at Vhetin's chest. One of them, the sergeant in charge of the battle line, snapped, "Drop your weapon. _Now_!"

Vhetin slowly lowered his lightsaber, then deactivated it and tossed it aside. The sergeant slowly stepped forward, unclipping a pair of stun cuffs from his utility belt. He clipped the cuffs over one of Vhetin's wrists and growled, “You’re going to pay for attacking one of our own.”

Vhetin snorted, his expression unreadable behind his partially shattered faceplate. “Your own? Wake the kriff up, sergeant. You really think he’s one of your own?”

The sergeant hesitated, then resumed cuffing the bounty hunter. One of the other troopers present, however, said, “What’re you talking about? Look, his identification tab is right here on his chest plate.”

The trooper leaned toward the Tracker, who tried to take a step back to keep his stolen identity secret. Too late. The trooper narrowed his eyes and said, “Private C’ciri? I thought he was on leave for the week.”

He looked up at the Tracker and slowly raised his rifle. “So who the kriff are you?”

Instinct kicked in and the Tracker moved without thinking. He grabbed the barrel of the soldier’s rifle, twisted, and slammed his fist down on the man’s armored forearm, yanking the rifle from the trooper’s grasp. The Tracker then spun the weapon around and fired three shots into the trooper’s plastoid chest plate.

“What the-“ the sergeant had time to say before rifle fire felled him as well.

Vhetin somersaulted and grabbed his two lightsabers, activating them both again as he rolled to his feet. He crossed the humming blue blades in an X in front of him and hastily retreated, either attempting to deflect the Tracker’s rifle shots or simply allowing his impenetrable armor to absorb the bolts. As soon as he was a sufficient distance away, he simply turned and ran. The Tracker cursed and sprinted after him as the black-armored man front-flipped effortlessly over the hood of a speeder and took off toward the submarine.

The Tracker was only a few feet behind his quarry when he jumped up and over the speeder and landed heavily on the ground on the other side. He heard a high-pitched beep as soon as he did. He looked down in confusion and saw a metallic, hourglass-shaped device at his feet. There was a bright green light flashing on the top and as the Tracker watched, the light flashed red.

“Oh, son of a-“

Then the world exploded into white.

~~~~~~~~

“How do you think the fight outside is going?”

Jay cocked her head and listened to the blaster fire and explosions from beyond the repair shop. She could see bright red blaster bolts flashing through the air through the tremendous hole in the wall created by the submarine’s exit.

“Vhetin and Tarron look like they have things under control,” she said. “We should probably get moving though.”

Venku nodded and looked up at one of the skylights set into the ceiling. He triggered his jetpack and blasted up into the air, smashing through the window and into open air. He cut out the pack and landed easily on the roof.

Jay grimaced and covered her head as a shower of shattered glass rained down around her. As soon as the tiny shards had stopped falling, she looked up at Venku with a glare.

"You could have warned me you were going to do that," she said.

"Sorry," he called. "Completely slipped my mind. You sure you can do this?"

She took a step back this time and folded her arms expectantly. "It's been a while since I've tried my luck on the climbing rope in Rame's barn, but I can probably manage.”

He threw her a salute, then raised his right arm and fired a gauntlet-mounted whipcord down into the room. The tiny grapple head bounced off the floor and rolled away, trailing hyper-dense whipcord line behind it. She stepped up to the line and tugged on it twice to test it.

"You sure you can hold it steady?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Please," he said in mock-annoyance. "If I wasn't we'd just be blowing another giant hole in the wall like Vhetin suggested. Now start crawling up the line before those stormtroopers start pokin' around."

She pulled her pilot's gloves from her jacket pocket and pulled them on to protect her hands. Once done, she hopped up and caught hold of the thin wire. She swung back and forth in mid-air for a moment before she began pulling herself up hand over hand.

"You okay?" Venku asked when she was halfway up.

She grunted as she slowly came to a halt. "I'm fine. Just keep your feet braced so you don't slip and send us both falling to our almost certain death."

He reached out his other arm as soon as she was close enough and hauled her up through the broken skylight. As she stripped off her gloves, he clicked a button on the side of his gauntlet and reeled the whipcord line back into its housing. The grapple head slid back into the gauntlet with a quiet _click_.

"Shall we?" he said, straightening and gesturing toward a fire escape on the rear side of the building.

She nodded, pulling her pistol from its holster and stepping toward the rickety fire escape. She cautiously leaned over the edge of the roof and scanned the alley below for signs of enemies.

"All clear," she said, stowing her weapon. "The stormtroopers guarding this area must have left to join the fight out front."

"Lucky us," he said, then hopped over the edge and slid down the escape ladder. He hit the ground, drew his pistol, and cleared the alley. After a moment he gestured for her to follow him down.

She quickly stepped down the ladder, landing in a deep puddle of seawater. She cursed and shook one sopping-wet boot, then stepped toward the front of the alley. Venku was right behind her, glancing over his shoulder.

"You think we're safe?" he asked. "My HUD's motion tracker shows a lot of Imperial contacts in the area."

"Just act casual," she said, pulling her jacket down to cover her blaster. "At least as casual as a walking death machine like you can manage."

He snorted as they turned the corner and moved out onto the street. It was deserted, most likely due to the loud sounds of blaster fire coming from the street barely a hundred meters away.

She glanced over at Venku, then nudged his arm and said, "Hey. Your helmet."

"Huh? What about it?"

"Take it off."

"Why?"

"It'll make you look less threatening to any other stormtroopers we come across. The last thing we want is to challenge their authority."

He shrugged and pulled off the helmet, clipping it to a hook on his belt. "Whatever you say, boss. You're the bounty hunting beauty."

She bit back a smile and said, "The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better off we'll be."

"You know a lot about all this."

"I've been working in this trade for a year," she said with a shrug. "I've picked up some stuff. I had to do something like this just a couple months ago."

"That whole deal with Hett and those Sith that you told me about?"

She nodded. "Me, Vhetin, and a few others had to sneak into a heavily guarded facility. How hard can it be to sneak out of one?"

She had barely spoken the words before they turned another corner and found themselves staring down a stormtrooper barricade. The troopers thankfully had their backs to them, but were directing all traffic away from the area Jay and Venku were leaving. The two slowly came to a halt, staring at the barricades that separated them from the chaotic crowd of beings that guaranteed their escape.

“Uh-oh,” Venku said. “We can’t go around. What now?”

Jay’s mind flew wildly from one scenario to another, trying to find some kind of excuse that the troopers would buy. When an idea finally came to mind, she grabbed his arm and burst into tears.

He looked sharply over at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just play along,” she hissed between a feigned sob. “Play the part of the devoted boyfriend. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I’ve been preparing for this role for months,” he said enthusiastically.

“Joke later,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he murmured. “But if you feel the need to kiss me in order to sell it, please just go ahead.”

He quickly fell silent as they approached the stormtrooper line. Hearing footsteps behind him, one of the troopers turned and raised a rifle. “Halt!” he barked. “You’re leaving a restricted area.”

“It w-was _horrible!_ ’ Jay sobbed. “W-we were just walking along and… and then they w-were _shooting_!”

She broke down into tears, burying her face in Venku’s shoulder. He stroked her hair sympathetically and looked to the trooper. “She’s a bit shaken up. It was a warzone back there.”

“Right,” the trooper said, eyeing Venku’s multi-colored combat armor. “I’m sure it was a situation that you just weren’t prepared for.”

“Hey, white-job, why don’t you go jump off a-“

Jay, her face still pressed against Venku’s arm, tightened her grip until she felt him wince slightly. He trailed off, then said, “I couldn’t get involved. I had to protect _ner cyar_ _’ika_.”

The trooper stared at them long enough for Jay to worry that her plan wasn’t working. Then the trooper shook his head and gestured them forward. Jay cried harder as they passed, ensuring that she sold her part of the deception. Venku stroked her hair soothingly and murmured, “It’s okay, _cyar_ _’ika_. It’s all over now.”

The trooper shook his helmeted head again and said, “I thought you Mandos liked tough women.”

“We all have different tastes _burc'ya_ ,” Venku replied evenly. Then they passed through the blockade and melted into the flow of city-goers who didn’t know or care who they were. As soon as they were out of the trooper’s sight, Jay let out a breath and straightened, instantly regaining her composure.

“You did well,” she said, slowly releasing Venku’s arm.

“I probably would have been able to sell it a little better if you had kissed me," he said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Keep dreaming, Mando boy," she shot back. "I have a boyfriend now, remember?"

His face fell slightly at her words, but only for a moment. Then he said, "Right. And I wouldn't want to come between you and a jealous _Mando'ad cyar'ika_. How's it going by the way? You know, if it's not a personal question."

She glanced over her shoulder. “Is now really the time?”

“What do you mean? We're safe, heading away from the stormtroopers and the Tracker. I think it's the perfect time for some relaxation.”

She shrugged. "The relationship is fine. A little hard to get time together with everything that's been happening."

He nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure it'll smooth itself out. I think you and Vhetin both will need a long break after all this."

"I hope so," Jay said. She hesitated, then said, "No, scratch that. I just hope we all make it home in one piece."

"That's a given."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. They turned off the crowded main street and made their way down an emptier side-street, heading for the rendezvous point that Vhetin had given them. If all went to plan ― and no one died ― then Vhetin and Tarron would meet them there.

"Are you happy?"

Jay glanced over at Venku. "What?"

He was staring at her intently. "This new boyfriend. Does he make you happy?"

She frowned. "I... I guess so. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged awkwardly, suddenly looking away and refusing to meet her confused gaze. "I just... I, uh, heard about what happened to you in the Navy. And I hoped you had been been able to find some measure of happiness after everything you lost."

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced that was what he wanted to say. But she just shrugged and said, "I've enjoyed the time I've spent on Mandalore. And I don't think I'm going to be leaving any time soon. Happy or not, I've found my home."

"You didn't answer my question."

She frowned deeper, now in thought. Was she happy? Like she had said, she enjoyed her time on Mandalore and her partnership with Vhetin, as stressed and dangerous as it was. She had made herself a home among the Mandalorians and their allies. She had friends and a home and a boyfriend now.

But was she really happy? Her life was fraught with pain at the loss of Sade and her fellow pilots, stress from multiple dangerous hunting contracts, and ever-present hatred for the Imperials that had imprisoned her and ripped her away from everything she had loved.

But she remembered occurrences over the past year that she had enjoyed: her training and partnership with Vhetin, occasionally helping Rame and Mia on their farm, sharing drinks with Venku at the _Oyu'baat,_ sporadic dates with her new boyfriend. She didn't think she would trade those memories for the world.

"I am," she eventually concluded. "I am happy. I made one of the best decisions of my life when I decided to learn from Vhetin."

He nodded. "I'm glad. You're _mandokarla_ , Jay. You deserve better than to live like Vhetin, with no happiness or hope in your life."

"You sound very disparaging of him," she said. "He's not a bad man, Venku."

"I never said so" he said. "But I don't want to see you turn into him. You can't say that you want to live like he does."

Venku had a point there. Vhetin's almost constant depression, his severe sense of ruthless justice, and his self-control that almost bordered on self-punishment wasn't what Jay wanted for herself. If anything, she wanted to help her partner out of his self-destructive tendencies. But he seemed to be even more stubborn about pushing her away whenever she did. She hoped she never became someone like that, who couldn't see the people around them who cared and wanted to help.

The frightening thing was that she got the feeling that Vhetin didn't want to be that way either. And she had to admit that scared the _osik_ out of her. The idea that she would unwillingly grow paranoid, depressed, and cold like Vhetin had actually kept her up at night.

"I don't really want to think about this right now," she finally said. "We have enough on our plates as it is."

He nodded. "I think I agree."

They walked in silence for a few moments before they reached the rendezvous point. They found a streetside bench and sat dawn on it. Jay leaned back and crossed her legs, waiting for any sign of Vhetin or Tarron.

"Nervous?" Venku eventually asked.

She looked over at him. "No. Why would I be?"

He nodded to her foot. She was bouncing it rapidly up and down. She stared for a moment, then forcibly stilled it. "Oh. Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous. Vhetin and Tarron should be here by now."

"They'll make it," Venku said. He unclipped his helmet and began spinning it between his palms. "From what I've heard, they've both been through tougher spots than this."

"Just because they've survived worse in the past doesn't mean they're not still in danger," she said. "I've heard of twenty-year veterans of bounty hunting who were shot and killed by solitary targets. You can't take a firefight lightly just because you've been through worse."

He nodded slowly. "I'll have to keep that in mind in the future."

"Besides," she continued, "I've known Vhetin long enough to know that he isn't invincible. Neither is Tarron for that matter."

"I'm touched by your confidence in our abilitites," a deep voice said to their right. They both jumped and turned toward the voice to find Tarron, his armor battered and scarred by multiple blaster shots. His left gauntlet was actually smoking.

Venku and Jay both stood. Jay grinned and said, "I was worried you wouldn't make it."

Vhetin appeared behind Tarron, looking just as beat-up as the Journeyman Protector. He had swapped his welding mask for his usual helmet, but he had several burns in his armor paint and several holes had been torn through his _kama_.

"Since when have I ever failed to fulfill my end of the plan?" he said, cocking his head to one side.

She opened her mouth to shoot back a retort. She promptly closed it, unable to think of a time. Eventually she just shrugged and shook her head.

"I thought so," Vhetin said, stepping past them and surveying the buildings in front of them. After a few moments, he called over his shoulder, "Tarron. Where are we?"

Jay stepped after her partner and muttered, "Nice to see you too."


	11. In the Nexu's Den

"According to the information Wouta gave us,” Tarron said as they walked, “the Tracker has been spotting going in and out of this apartment complex for a few weeks now. His sporadic absences coincide with our reports of the Tracker's attacks on our allies."

"What room?"

"Twenty-Three," Tarron replied dutifully. "But we can't just barge in. We'll need some kind of excuse to get in there."

"Leave that to me," Vhetin said darkly.

"You?"

"Yes," he said, turning to the Journeyman Protector. "I can use something other than my gun to get things done."

"I've yet to see that side of you."

Vhetin waited for the traffic director light to change, then set off across the busy street. "Just follow my lead," he said as he went, "and we may bring this mess to a close before sundown."

Jay quickly set off after her partner. Tarron and Venku glanced at each other, then followed her.

It took them a while to make their way across the bustling street and to the steps of the apartment complex. Jay grimaced at they grew closer, smelling a powerful stench on the air. A quick inspection of the area detailed the cause: trash.

There had to be tons of it, scattered across the sidewalk or piled against the outside walls of the building. It spilled through a shattered window and poured over the sidewalk and onto the street. Something unidentifiable crunched under Jay's boots, but she didn't risk looking down to see what it was.

"Fierfek," Venku muttered, covering his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. "It smells like Mird after he's rolled in something dead. And then brought it back with him."

Tarron looked slightly green as well, no small feat since his face was bruised black and blue. "I've been inside Hutt Palaces that have smelled better than this."

"Try to keep from vomiting," Vhetin said as he stepped inside the building.

"Easy for you to say," Venku coughed. "Your helmet has built-in olfactory filters and scent scrubbers. Take a whiff of this without your bucket and see how long you can last."

Vhetin didn't reply. He instead quickened his pace and stepped inside the building. He stepped up to the front reception desk, covered in trash like everything else, which was staffed by a grayish-looking Ithorian.

"We're here to rent a room."

The Ithorian grumbled at him, its voice sounding like two stones being ground together. Vhetin shook his head in response and said, "Is Room Twenty-Three available? I've stayed there before."

The alien shook its T-shaped head and growled. Vhetin cocked his head and said, "Someone's staying there?"

It nodded and handed Vhetin a keycard with a rumble. Vhetin took it and said, "Twenty-One is fine. Thank you."

Jay hurried after her partner as he set off at a brisk pace toward a dark stairwell in the back of the lobby. She picked her way around large mounds of trash and fell into step next to him. "What was all that about?"

Vhetin tossed the keycard onto a nearby pile of trash. "We didn't need a room. The Ithorian told us that Room Twenty-Three is occupied, and that's all we needed to know. Wouta's information has now been proven to be reliable."

"Oh," she said. "That was smart."

"Glad you think so," Vhetin murmured. "Now stay close. I don't think the Tracker would have left his hideout undefended."

She nodded and gestured for Tarron and Venku to hurry up and keep close. Together, they made their way up the narrow staircase that, like the rest of the apartment complex, was overflowing with trash. Jay's lip curled in disgust as she stepped over a foul-smelling pile of rags that had a thick cloud of carrion bugs buzzing around it.

"So what's the plan?" she said, trying to ignore the even more pungent aromas wafting toward her from the second floor. "Burst in with guns drawn and take the Tracker hostage?"

"I think we both know by now that the Tracker isn't going to come quietly."

"Then what?"

"We're not trying to catch him," he said as they reached the second floor. "We're taking the fight to him and showing him that we can reach him as easily as he can reach us."

"And... how exactly are we going to do that?" Jay asked. She looked around with a grimace at the second floor, which was even filthier than the first. There was a closet further down the hall where the building's cook had apparently decided to toss his old kitchen scraps. The door was hanging wide open now, spilling rotting food out onto the carpeted floor. There were several tiny, reptilian gizka picking over the scraps, using their whiplike tongues to snare tasty morsels out of the pile. Jay forcibly looked away as they passed it, silently willing herself not to vomit.

"We're going to leave him a message he won't forget," Vhetin said. "We're going to trash the place and make sure he knows it was us."

"Doesn't that seem a little crude?" Venku said from behind them.

Vhetin shrugged as they turned and started up the stairs at the end of the hall that led to the third floor. "Some people can't be convinced by traditional threats. We can't physically intimidate the Tracker, so we have to try and goad him into combat. If he's angry and defensive, he'll be psychologically weaker. If he's not feeling so confident, it'll be easier to bring him down."

"You've done this before?"

Vhetin silently shook his head. "It's a first for me. Usually I'm the hunter, not the one being hunted."

"It'll be okay," Jay said, mistaking the quiet tension in his voice as nervousness.

He glanced at her and said, "Of course it will. I know what I'm doing."

"I just-"

"This isn't the first time someone's tried to kill me, Jay," he continued harshly. He stopped in his tracks and rounded on her, seeming to tower over her in his threatening black battle armor. "I was dodging blaster bolts before you were thinking about joining the Navy. I've been doing this for _seven years_. I think I know how to handle this."

"Cin-" Tarron began, but Vhetin ignored him.

"Who are you to judge whether or not this will all _be okay_?" he demanded. "You don't know me, Jay. You don't know what I am or am not capable of, and you sure as hell don't know what the Tracker is capable of. For all you know, he could be waiting for us around the next corner and we'll all be _dead_ in the next five minutes!"

"Vhetin!" Tarron barked, holding out a hand, "tone it back. She was trying to help."

He glanced at Tarron, then looked back at Jay. For the first time in a very long time, she found herself frightened by the sinister T-strip of his helmet visor. Suddenly it seemed like she really didn't know the man inside the armor at all, even after all they'd been through.

"I..." he sighed. "I'm sorry, Jay. That was unnecessary."

"No, it's... it's fine," she said hesitantly. She stepped past him, making her way further up the stairs. "Let's just go."

"Jay," Vhetin called after her. She had reached the top of the stairway before she turned back to him. She stared at her partner, meeting his helmeted gaze. He took several steps up the stairs until he stood next to her.

"I'm truly sorry," he said. "The truth is that I'm just as nervous as you are."

"There's no shame in admitting it," Tarron piped up from further down the stairway. Vhetin glanced at him, obviously glaring through his helmet, then turned his expressionless gaze back to Jay.

"You have no idea how comforting it is to know you've got my back," he slowly continued. "And when we take the Tracker down, we'll take him together."

He held out a gloved hand. "What do you say... partner?"

She stared at him, then slowly reached out and shook his hand. "Okay, Cin. Let's end this."

Together, they stepped up the last few stairs and emerged on the third floor. Thankfully, Jay saw that the floor was free of trash, most likely because it was too much of a hassle to haul garbage all the way up to the third floor.

"Any sign of him?" Venku asked, drawing his pistol.

Vhetin's flag-like rangefinder slid down and he began scanning the hall. He eventually shook his head. "No signs of life here."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Venku asked, stepping past them and making a beeline for Room Twenty-Three. He had grabbed the doorhandle and began to turn it when Vhetin's arm shot out and grabbed his blue-colored gauntlet.

"Wait," he said quietly. "Don't move."

"What?" Venku said, frowning at the black-armored Mando. "You said we were in the clear."

"I said that there were no signs of life. Just give me a minute more to scan, okay?"

The rangefinder slid down once more and Vhetin turned his expressionless scrutiny to the wall in front of him. He didn't let go of Venku's arm the entire time.

Jay glanced to Tarron, who just shrugged.

After a few moments, Vhetin's rangefinder clicked back up and he said, "I thought so. Venku, don't you dare take your hand off that doorhandle."

"What?" Jay asked, not liking the edge of tension in his voice. "What's wrong?"

He stepped back and pointed to the rough duracrete wall in front of him. "It looks like the Tracker has a pulse beam trigger set up across the door."

"Care to explain what that is?"

He glanced at Jay. "It's an extremely sensitive laser trigger. The Tracker has it set up across the door."

"Triggers... you know, they trigger stuff," Venku slowly said, looking nervous. He had slowly been growing more and more pale while Vhetin spoke. "So what does this trigger?"

Vhetin took a step back, tapping several commands into his gauntlet-mounted datapad. "It looks like... fifty pounds of tricardium explosive."

Jay and Tarron both stifled gasps of shock, while Venku just blinked several times. He cleared his throat, then said, "Is that bad?"

"That's enough explosives to level this building," Jay said when Vhetin just continued his calculations. "The Tracker obviously doesn't want people barging in on his hideout."

Venku moved to step away, but Vhetin pointed at him and snapped, "Don't _move_. You take your hand off that doorhandle, the handle moves, and you change the pressure in the room. The beam will sense the pressure change and detonate the explosives."

Venku was sweating now, and breathing twice as fast as before. Vhetin turned back to his gauntlet datapad and murmured, "Just don't move. I think I have a way to get you out of this."

"How?"

Vhetin straightened and pulled a lightsaber hilt from his belt. "If I can burn through the wall and sever the trigger's power supply, the beam trigger will lose power and the detonator will be useless."

Jay frowned and folded her arms. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you sounded a little unsure of that plan."

"Well..."

" _Well_?" Venku echoed. "That doesn't sound very confident. And I don't want to trust my life to someone who isn't confident."

"There's a chance," Vhetin slowly admitted, "that the detonator will react with my lightsaber blade."

"And then what happens?"

Vhetin stared at him, then said, "The tricardium will explode."

"Oh."

Vhetin hesitated, then activated the glowing blue blade of his weapon. He maneuvered it until it was aiming point-first into the duracrete. Jay saw that the tip of the blade was as steady as a rock, a testament to Vhetin's self-control. He was obviously as uncomfortable with the prospect of cutting through the wall, possiby into fifty pounds of high explosives, as everyone else was.

“This is the only solution,” Venku said nervously. “Right?”

“Right,” Vhetin whispered. He let out a quick breath, then murmured, " _Oya_ ," and stabbed forward. The blue lightsaber sank into the duracrete, making the synthetic stone glow a fiery orange-white and begin to bubble around the energy blade.

Venku had looked away as soon as Vhetin stabbed, tensing up and screwing his eyes shut in expectation of a fiery explosion. Jay unconsciously did the same. She quickly opened her eyes when she heard nothing but the synthetic hum of Vhetin's lightsaber and the hissing of vaporized duracrete sizzling against the blade.

"What's happening?" Jay asked nervously.

He didn't answer for a long time. After what seemed like an eternity, he twisted the blade, then slowly withdrew it from the wall. He deactivated the weapon and clipped the hilt back to his belt.

"Okay," he said. "The detonator should be offline now."

"Do you know that for certain?" Venku asked slowly.

"No," Vhetin said. "But there's only one way to find out. Open the door."

Venku closed his eyes, cursed, then pushed the door open. The creaking of the hinges seemed to drown out all of Jay's hearing. Thankfully, though, it once again wasn't followed by an explosion. She let out a long breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Venku watched the door swing open, then let out an explosive sigh of relief and let his shoulders slump. "Thank _te Manda_ ," he muttered.

He looked to Jay and said, "Do you guys have to go through _osik_ like this all the time?"

She nodded sympathetically. "All the time. My first contract, I was attacked by underworld thugs, almost blown to bits by Durge, almost shot by a sniper, and actually shot by Kassh."

"You forgot Rhen Var," Vhetin murmured, scanning the wall again to make sure the detonator was offline.

"Oh that's right," she said. "I also almost froze to death. All while working the same job."

"Fierfek," he said. "I always thought those bounty hunting horror stories I heard at the _Oyu'baat_ were just the hunters trying to make themselves look good."

"Unfortunately not," Vhetin said, then stepped up to the door and cautiously entered the apartment. His lightsaber was still in his hand, though it wasn't activated. Jay drew her pistol from its holster on her hip and followed him inside.

Inside, she found a surprisingly tidy two-room apartment. In fact, it almost looked as if no one actually lived there. There was a small table in the center of the room, a chest of drawers set up under a window along one wall, and a cot in the corner looked as if it were made up tidily enough to pass military inspection.

Using age-old military hand signals, Vhetin motioned for Jay to clear the second room, which she guessed was a refresher. She moved up to the door and slowly pushed it open, stepping inside with her pistol raised warily. As she had guessed, it was a tiny 'fresher, seemingly untouched for months. There was a fine layer of dust on every surface.

"Clear," she called back to her partner as she holstered her pistol. She stepped back out into the main room and said, "Apparently the Tracker isn't here."

"Let's get to work, then," Vhetin said, continuing to scan the room for more booby traps. "We don't know how long before he gets back."

"And what exactly are we looking for?"

He shrugged. "Anything. Anything that we can use against him."

He pointed at the chest near the window. "Check through that. See if there's anything useful. Tarron, come take a look at this."

Jay began looking through the drawers of the chest as Vhetin and Tarron began studying the trap set up just behind the door. She glanced over and saw a four-foot-high stack of what looked like white clay bricks. The tricardium explosives, she guessed.

Then she turned her attention to the chest in front of her. She pulled open the top drawer and her eyebrows instantly shot up at what she saw. Nestled into foam insets resting in the top drawer was what looked like a disassembled sniper rifle.

“Hey Cin?” she called over her shoulder. “Might want to come take a look at this.”

Venku was instantly at her side, Vhetin on the other a few moments later. The two leaned over the drawer, staring at its contents intently.

“See anything you recognize?” Jay asked her partner.

He nodded slowly. “Projectile sniper rifle. A... Tenbry Battledragon I think. Very quiet, very accurate, very deadly. It's outlawed on most civilized systems and being caught with one is punishable by lifetime imprisonment and possible interrogation while the Imps try and track down the seller. And unless I'm very much mistaken...”

He pulled the scaled-down handgrip out of its foam insets, turning it over in his hands and examining it. He flipped it over and stared at the bottom of the grip, looking at a small plug set there.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured. He traced a finger along the plug and said, “This is a plug mount for a mechanized tripod. Scuff marks around the mount indicate that it's been used recently.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Vhetin said, setting the grip back into its foam holder, “this was the rifle that the Tracker set up to shoot at me back in Keldabe.”

Venku cocked his head and reached into the drawer as well, pulling out a slip of flimsiplast. He held it up to the light and Jay saw the image of a young man with dark skin, curly black hair, and brown eyes.

“Know who this is?” he asked, handing the pic to Jay. She looked it over, then handed it down the line to Vhetin.

Vhetin studied it closely, then shook his head. “Might be a brother or other family member. Might come in handy, though. I'll get this back to Jaing, have him run it through a facial recognition program. Might be useful.”

Then he stepped away, tucking the pic into one of his belt pouches. He returned to Tarron and they began discussing the Tracker's door trap again. Venku turned and continued his perusal of the apartment at large. Jay pulled open the second and third drawers and found nothing that surprised her: two heavy duty blaster pistols with ample ammunition in the second drawer and more foam insets filled with varied collections of grenades in the third. In all, it seemed like standard kit for an assassin.

She shut the bottom drawer and brushed her hands off. “Nothing else in there, unless you want to re-stock on ammo.”

“Can't risk it,” Vhetin said, not facing her. “If we take something overly noticeable, he'll know we were here.”

“What're you two looking at?” she asked, stepping up next to Tarron and folding her arms.

“His work booby-trapping the door,” Tarron explained, pointing to the bricks of tricardium. “This isn't the work of some back-street thug. The Tracker's obviously had extensive military training.”

“Isn't that obvious?” Jay said with a frown. “The guy has kicked our asses ever since  we met him.”

“No,” Tarron continued, “this... this is more advanced than you think. This is seriously high-tech work. Maybe even-”

Vhetin unexpectedly nudged him in the ribs and the Journeyman Protector instantly silent. After a few moments he awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “Well, uh, it's more complex than anything I've seen soldiers use. Even Republic Commandos are cruder than this.”

“What's so special about this particular setup?” Venku asked from the other side of the room. “It's a bunch of explosive putty strapped to the wall. That seems pretty crude to me.”

“Not quite,” Vhetin said. He pointed at the bricks and said, “These are set up above the main fuel line for the building. If the tricardium explodes, it would look like a gas explosion.”

“Yeah,” Jay slowly said, “but there's bound to be residue. Powder burns, explosion shape and fire color. Everyone knows that the type of explosive influences the type of explosion.”

“True,” Vhetin said, “but tricardium is special. It leaves no powder burns because it doesn't detonate like conventional explosives. It vaporizes into a cloud of superheated gas that flash-fries anything around it. It literally melts everything in the cloud in moments, then disperses harmlessly and untraceably into the atmosphere.”

“Still...”

“That's why it's so impressive that it's set up like this,” Tarron said. “Normally the flash-melted building is evidence enough for local enforcement officers to go off of.”

Jay stared at the white putty bricks and shook her head. “I still don't see it.”

Vhetin glanced at her. “If the tricardium exploded, it would ignite the gas in the fuel pipes. Once the tricardium gas reside evaporated into the atmosphere, the only evidence would be the leftover effects of the gas explosion. It would look like an accident.”

“And the Tracker would know someone tried to get into his hideout,” Jay slowly finished. “Elegant, if a little psychotic.”

“Like I said,” Tarron said, a little uneasily. “Pretty impressive. Right Cin?”

“Right,” Vhetin said, as if approving the Journeyman Protector's words. “In the meantime, let's get out of here. See what Jaing can dig up with this picture.”

“Won't the Tracker notice the big hole you melted in the wall to destroy the detonator?” Venku asked.

“Without doubt,” Vhetin said. “But by the time he gets back, we'll be long gone.”

Jay nodded and turned back to the door and froze. Her pistol was instantly in her hand and she muttered, “Or... maybe not.”

Standing in the doorway were two white armored stormtroopers, rifles in hand and aimed squarely at her chest. And standing between them was an all-too-familiar man in a dark brown trench coat and a dull metal facemask that revealed nothing of his face but his pale blue eyes.

Vhetin's lightsaber was lit, Tarron's rifle was in his hands, and Venku's pistol was raised before Jay could barely blink. She took a step back, closer to Venku, and clicked the safety off her own blaster, raising it and aiming it at the Tracker's helmeted forehead.

“I have to hand it to you,” the Tracker said, taking a step inside, “you've certainly turned the tables here. I never expected you to track me back here. How did you... no wait, let me guess. Wouta put me under surveillance after I put him in the medcenter, didn't he? The sneaky little squid-head.”

“Order your goons to stand down,” Vhetin said, his voice sounding surprisingly calm to Jay. “You and I both know that a stray blaster bolt will send this entire building sky-high.”

“Oh, I know that,” the Tracker agreed, nodding. “That's why you're going to give up without a fight.”

“How do you figure?”

“You're tresspasing in my home, breaking and entering while you're at it. This,” he said, indicating the troopers behind him, “is just me taking adequate precautions to defend myself.”

He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. “If this turns into a firefight and we miraculously don't all die, you guys will have warrants placed on your heads. The enforcement officers you've enlisted to help you will drop their support and you'll be left without any more allies to turn to. That's _if_ you make it out alive.”

“I think we'll take our chances,” Tarron said, his battered, black-and-blue face pulled down in a furious scowl.

The Tracker seemed to notice him for the first time. “Ah, Protector Matele. Nice to see you again so soon. You obviously don't heal well. I didn't know I had wounded such a prestigious bodyguard so badly.”

“I've suffered worse,” Tarron growled, his eyes narrowed to slits.

 _Ah-ha_! Jay thought with a sure of anger directed toward her partner. _So the Tracker_ did _have something to do with Tarron's wounds. Another check off the list of things Cin's hidden from me._

“I'm not going to let you take me back to Vader,” Vhetin growled, flexing his gloved grip over the pommel of his lightsaber. “And I'll prove it if you make me.”

“Come on, Cin,” the Tracker said with an easy, casual tone that once again made Jay think the assassin knew her partner. “You know how long I've been on your tail. You're just perpetuating the cycle by resisting. Can you honestly say that you don't just want to get this over with? After a whole _year_ of running?”

“Wait... a _year_?” Jay echoed, looking over at her partner. He was staring through his expressionless faceplate, his gaze never leaving the Tracker's icy blue eyes. She took a step toward her partner, forcing him to face her.

“A _year_?” she said again. “This sewer-slime has been trying to kill you for a _year_ and you never _told_ me? Fierfek, Vhetin, have you been lying to me since the day we _met?_ ”

“Jay...” he said quietly. “Now isn't the time.”

“When is the time?” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell me what was going on?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Every time I ask you a question,” she snapped, her face turning down in a scowl and her voice quickly rising in volume, “that's the answer I get. And all I get for my patience is more _lies_!”

She gestured to the Tracker and his stormtroopers, who were all standing calmly in the doorway. “How do I know that he's not after you because you're really a murderer? Or a thief?”

She looked straight into Vhetin's T-visor faceplate and said, “How can I know that I'm on the right side, Cin? When you've never told me anything but lies?”

“Jay, I have my-”

“ _No_!” she shouted, raising her pistol and aiming it straight at her partner's faceplate. She hesitated, then lowered the weapon slightly. The weapon was now pointed at Vhetin's unarmored neck – a killing shot. Her hand shook as she tightened her grip on the blaster.

“Don't,” she said her voice shaking as well. “Don't you _dare_ say that again.”

The Tracker laughed, an ugly sound that echoed in the confines of his helmet. “Well, well, Cin. Looks like you've been a naughty boy.”

“Jay,” Vhetin said slowly, not moving a muscle, “I need your help.”

“Why the hell should I help you?” she demanded. “What as the Tracker done to me? Or to Venku? Or to Tarron?”

“Are you blind?” her partner snapped. “He beat Tarron to a _pulp_.”

“To get at _you_!” she shouted. “All this is _all your fault_!”

In the end, her own incorrect assumptions about the Tracker saved Vhetin's life. She was fully prepared to shoot her partner; her mind was swirling with a dark, super-charged rage that made her heart pound and muscles quiver.

 _He lied to you_ , she kept saying to herself. _Every word he's told you about himself since the day you met him has been a lie to cover up what's really going on. He's manipulated you, dragged you into suicidal situations, and given you absolutely nothing in return for your loyalty._

_He deserves what's about to happen to him._

But just as her own finger was tightening on her blaster's firing stud, she heard the sound of blasters cycling up behind her. Instinct kicked in and she dropped to the floor. She had just enough time to see the Tracker pull two deadly field blasters out of his pockets before bright red blaster bolts lit up the air her head had occupied only moments before.

She cursed and covered her head as she heard the screaming of laser bolts and the _snap_ of Imperial rifles. She risked a glance up and saw both Vhetin and Tarron stagger back, bright red blaster bolts exploding against their chest plates. Tarron's brown chest plate began to glow red-hot, then actually shattered under the storm of enemy fire. The man staggered and fell to the ground, crawling across the floor away from the Tracker and leaving a bloody smear across the ground as he went. He reached up with a grunt and pulled over the chest of drawers to block incoming fire.

Venku ducked as blaster bolts flashed over his head, then stepped forward and shoved the table over to create a protective barrier. He ducked behind it and frantically gestured Jay to join him.

Vhetin was knocked onto his back by two separate shots that hit him in the helmet forehead. He cursed as he struggled back to his feet and ducked down behind the table as well. Jay stuck her head out to return fire, but Vhetin grabbed her arm and shouted, “No! You fire a wild shot and this entire apartment gets blown to _haran_.”

“So what?” she shouted back at him. “Just let the Tracker shoot at us all day?”

“Stay down,” he said, then turned toward the wall. He gestured for Tarron, was taking cover behind the overturned chest of drawers, to move out of the way. The bleeding Journeyman Protector scowled, then quickly belly-crawled over to take cover behind the table that was quickly being eaten away by blaster fire. Jay winced as a fist-sized chunk of the table was blown away next to her head.

“What are you doing?” she snapped at her partner.

He raised his right arm and tapped in a quick set of commands. Jay spotted the cylindrical device hooked into his armored gauntlet, then cursed and covered her ears.

It wasn't enough to block out the deafening _shoom_ as her partner's wrist-mounted rocket spouted a foot-long tail of fire and slashed through the air before exploding as it hit the wall. Flaming chips of duracrete bounced down around them as the fire and smoke faded away, revealing a tremendous hole in the wall. Jay saw the brick wall of another building through the opening. Their escape route would lead them into an adjoining alleyway.

“We officially have permission to leave,” Vhetin said. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and drew a pistol from his hip. “Venku, Jay, help Tarron. Get out of here. I'll be right behind you.”

Venku eyed the pistol. “I thought you said not to return fire.”

“Just go,” Vhetin muttered, then stood and snapped of three shots at their attackers. The two stormtroopers fell while the third shot missed the Tracker by a few centimeters.

The Tracker laughed. “You'll need to be a lot more accurate than that if you want to take me down, Vhetin.”

Vhetin stood to his full height, aiming his weapon. “Then let's end it here,” he said. “You and me. Leave my friends out of this.”

“Friends?” the Tracker mockingly echoed. “After that little display by the girl, I'm not sure you can call them _friends_.”

Jay and Venku helped Tarron to his feet, slinging his arms over their shoulders and helping him limp toward the hole in the wall. They reached the hole and Venku looked out over the edge. It was a long drop to the street below, which was covered in trash bags.

“Think we'll survive a drop?” Venku asked.

Jay cast a glance back at her partner, who was aiming his blaster silently at the Tracker. “I don't think we have any other choice.”

“On three?”

“I don't think we have that long. Just _go_!”

Before her mind could scream at her not to she leaped out into open air, dragging Tarron and Venku out with her. They plummeted down through the air, the wind whipping her hair wildly about, before they smashed into the piles of trash. The trash bags cushioned their fall, but spattered them with their contents when they landed.

“Ugh,” Venku grimaced. He shook used caf filters out of his hair and wiped some kind of unknown slime off his blue gauntlet. “This day just keeps getting worse and worse.”

Jay pulled fish bones out of her hair with an equally disgusted grimace, then looked up at the hole in the apartment wall. Vhetin hadn't followed them.

“Let's get out of here before the Tracker brings more Imps down on our head,” she eventually said.

“What... what about Vhetin?” Tarron asked with a wheeze, clutching his bleeding chest.

She narrowed her eyes, still staring up at the hole in the apartment wall. “We'll head back to the rendezvous point. If he isn't there in ten minutes... we'll take it from there.”

Then she helped Tarron to his feet and together they limped away from the building and the murderers and liars that were still inside.


	12. Revelation

Vhetin breathed a sigh of relief after Jay, Tarron, and Venku disappeared through the hole in the wall. Then he reverted all his attention on the Tracker.

“I'm not going to let you do this,” Vhetin growled.

“What, and you really think I give a kriff about your problems?”

“You know why the Imperials want me.”

The Tracker shrugged, his own pistols aiming steadily at Vhetin's helmet forehead. “Obviously.”

“Then you know that if the Imps get their hands on me, millions will die.”

“You can't know that.”

“ Do biological weapons have _any other_ purpose?” he snapped. “Damn it, Tracker, use your brain. Since when have the Imperials tried to hunt beings down so they can _help_ people?”

“That's not my concern, sadly,” the Tracker said. “I've been hired to capture you, bring you to Vader, and drop you off. Whatever they do with you after that isn't my problem.”

“A situation like this isn't really the time to exercise a healthy sense of apathy.”

“What, so you're going to try and appeal to my good side? You should know better than that.”

“I do,” Vhetin said. “That's why I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary.”

He shifted his balance and aimed his pistol squarely at the stacks of tricardium bricks. The Tracker saw his shift in aim and laughed.

“What, you'll kill us both?”

“If I have to,” Vhetin said calmly, “yes.”

The Tracker's laugh slowly faded. “Why. Why is this so important to you?”

“I was the Imp's lab rat once before,” he said. “I won't be again.”

“Is this your twisted sense of justice coming into play again? Your sociopathic utilitarianism?”

He shook his head. “I just don't have anything to lose any more. You and your friends, the Imperials, have taken it all. My self-respect, my sense of morality, my emotions...”

It was true. Virtually every problem he had in his life stemmed from the Imperials. It was their fault he was so cold and couldn't return Brianna's feelings, causing her to leave him. It was their fault he couldn't trust others, which had angered Jay to the point that she had almost killed him. They had ruined his entire life, and they would continue to do so until he decided to do something about it.

 _I reflected earlier_ , he thought, _about how I dealt with problems before Jay became my partner. How I always ran and hid from them, rather than stand and face them like a true warrior._

 _That's what I'm doing here_.

“The Empire won't leave me alone,” Vhetin said quietly, calmly. “And that leaves me with two options: one, destroy the Empire - which isn't possible – or two, destroy myself.”

He looked the Tracker in his icy blue eyes and said, “I'm not the suicidal type. But if I have to die in order to kill you and keep the Imperials from killing countless more, I'm willing to do it. Call it sociopathic utilitarianism if you want, but it's the price I'm willing to pay.”

He placed his finger on the firing stud. “The Imperials made me who I am today, Tracker. Now, you and the rest will have to suffer the consequences.”

Then he fired into the stack of tricardium bricks. The Tracker's eyes flew wide and he instantly turned and disappeared down the hallway, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

Vhetin watched the brick he'd shot, watching as the white putty slowly blackened from the heat of the discharge. He was aware of a high-pitched whine, growing louder and louder. The air around the tricardium began to shimmer like a heat wave in the desert.

Then, as he watched, a single, tiny flame sprang to life on the top of the brick.

The next moment, the entire world exploded into a blinding white eruption of fire. He felt himself flying back through the air, carried by a powerful shockwave that smashed him through the wall and into open air. He was slammed against the wall of the building across the street, bouncing off and plummeting through the air before landing in a heap in the trash that covered the street below. Head-sized chunks of duracrete rained down around him before he heard a deafening rumble as the apartment building collapsed over him.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and was slammed back down by a huge piece of the building. He felt more and more bricks piling up over him, blotting out the light from the sun. Then his vision faded and didn't return.

He didn't know how long it was before he regained consciousness. He tasted blood, felt a vague pain in his back and arms, and managed to make out a voice over the crackling of flames and the ringing of his ears.

“ _Cin!_ ” a voice shouted. “ _Cin, where are you?_ ”

 _Brianna?_ He thought. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing red as blood leaked into his eyes. His vision shook, as if the whole world around him was trembling violently. He tried to move, found that he was still pinned under rubble.

The voice again, saying the same words. He grimaced and coughed, but only succeeded in spattering his helmet faceplate with more blood. He tried to roll over, feeling the pain in his back and arms grow worse.

“ _Cin!_ _”_

“Brianna...” he moaned. He coughed. More blood. “Brianna, over... over here.”

He heard footsteps, making their way quickly toward him. He groaned weakly. “Brianna...”

He felt the heavy chunks of duracrete being heaved off him. His vision was suddenly blinded by a wash of pure white sunlight. Someone blocked out the sunlight as they fell to their knees next to him. Moments later, whoever it was began punching him. He weakly tried to bat away the attacking hands, but whoever it was just brushed his hands away and continued their attack.

“Brianna,” he gasped. “Stop... don't...”

“I'm not Brianna,” the voice snapped. “And I'm not hurting you. You're on fire.”

“On... on-”

“On fire, yes,” the voice said.

He frowned and said, “J-jay?”

“You're damn lucky to be alive,” she snapped, still patting out the flames that were crawling across his arms and chest. “What were you thinking, blowing the tricardium like that?”

“Had to get out,” he muttered, blinking blood out of his eyes. He was slowly returning to his senses. His head was pounding, but his strength was slowly returning and his vision didn't shake so badly. “Had to get the Tracker away.”

She shook her head. “You could have killed yourself.”

“I was willing... to take that chance.”

She sighed, patting out the last of the flames on his shoulder. “One of these days you're not going to come out of this on top.”

He rose to his hands and knees, then set back with a groan. “Is Tarron okay?”

“He'll be fine,” she said. “With a little bacta and some rest, he'll be good as new. Venku's taking him to a medcenter, just to be sure.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I'm not sure I can say the same about you, though.”

“I'll be fine,” he said.

“Good,” she said, not sounding very relieved. “Can you walk?”

“I... think so.”

“Then hurry up,” she said, standing. “You and I have some things to talk about.”

“Jay...” he said slowly, “just give me a minute, okay?”

She scowled deeper and stepped back, her stern gaze leaving no room for argument.

“ _Void_ ,” she said. “Now.”

~~~~~~~~

“You and I need to get some things straight,” Jay said with a scowl, sliding into the seat across from him at _Void_ ’s mess hall table.

Vhetin cursed, wrapping bandages around his lacerated forearm. The inside of his helmet was still splattered with blood and the slash on his forehead that had leaked blood into his eyes still hadn't stopped bleeding completely. “I know, I know. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“ _Completely honest_ with me?” she echoed, her voice quivering with suppressed rage. “You’ve told me _nothing_ about yourself. You've _lied_ to me since the day you met me. And that almost got me killed down there.”

She took a deep breath, obviously trying to get her anger under control. She didn't succeed. “I'm angry,” she said, “and I feel betrayed. I've always known you were shy about your past, but I never expected this... this... _osik_!”

She almost shouted the last word and Vhetin winced slightly at her voice.

She leaned closer to him and said, “ _If we_ _’re going to be partners_ , you said once, _I need you to trust me._ Those were the exact words that came out of your mouth. But guess what? If we’re going to be partners, _you_ need to trust _me_ as well. And you haven't done that. Not now, and apparently not ever.”

“Look,” he said, “I'm sorry. I really am. But-”

“But _nothing_ ,” she snapped, eyes blazing. “I think it's time you told me what the _hell_ is really going on here!”

 _She_ _’s right,_ he thought to himself, wincing inwardly. As much as he wanted to deny it, she was right, and he couldn’t skirt the issue any longer.

 _So what?_ he thought. _Spill everything?_

He grimaced behind his helmet and said, “I... I can’t do that.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Why won’t you trust me, even though I’m supposed to put my life in your hands?”

Vhetin sighed and said the words for what felt like the millionth time. “I have my reasons.”

She stood quickly and slammed her fists down on the table hard enough to shake its surface.

“ _That_ _’s not good enough_!” she shouted. “I almost got my _head_ blown off back there because _you_ didn’t give me _any_ information! You _yourself_ taught me that if I’m going into hostile territory, I need all the intel I can get.”

She gestured broadly around herself. “Well the entire big, bad universe is hostile territory for me now, Mando boy, and right now I really need to know just one thing.”

She leaned across the table, close enough that his helmet’s sensors picked up her breath against his helmet.

“ _Who are you_?” she demanded quietly.

He let out a long sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, looking for the right answer. He'd kept his past secret for so long, and now he felt terrified to speak of it again.

 _I need to come clean_ , he thought. _Brianna left because I couldn't be honest with her. Now I'm on the verge of losing Jay as well. This has to stop._

He stared at the tabletop for a long time before finally looking up at her again. She was sitting once more, staring at him with furious expectation.

He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. He felt an icy surge of adrenaline before he finally said, “Fine.”

“What?”

“You want to know about me,” he growled, “that’s _fine_. But I am _not_ going to go spilling my guts out to you like you’re some fancy Coruscant head shrink. Got it?”

She nodded, looking slightly startled that he'd actually agreed to her request. “Works for me.”

He nodded back, then stared at the tabletop again, clenching and unclenching a fist nervously. His heart was pounding in his chest and his throat was suddenly very dry.

 _This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _I've stared down Barabel murderers and Sith assassins without so much as blinking and now I'm almost pissing myself. What am I so afraid of?_

It was the question that had haunted him ever since he had almost come clean with his partner outside the spaceport. Whenever the topic drifted onto his past, he found himself sweating, heart pounding, mind racing to find another subject – any other subject – than his past.

 _Maybe,_ he slowly thought, _it's because I don't want her to think less of me. What will she say when she finally learns the truth about me? Will she even want me as a partner any more?_

He let out a shaky breath and thought, _Only one way to find out, I guess._

“Okay,” he said, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt, “I guess I'll start from the beginning. To answer your main question of who I am, I’ll answer honestly: I don’t know.”

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for some scathing retort, but none came. He glanced at her and saw her blinking in confusion. His words had stopped her in her tracks.

She frowned to herself, then looked at him with a scowl. “What the hell does that mean?”

He sighed wearily and rubbed at his forehead, forgetting there was a barrier of _beskar_ separating his fingertips from his skin. He shrugged and his shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to telling the whole twisted tale.

“Seven years ago,” he slowly began, “not far from Rame’s farmhouse, there was a huge explosion. The sound was apparently heard for miles, and the fire burned down almost half of Rame’s crops. When he, Mia, and Brianna went out to find out what had happened, they found the wreckage of a crashed starship.”

Jay nodded, taking in this new information then looking at him to elaborate.

“It looked to Rame like some kind of transport,” he continued, “but what kind was impossible to determine given the damage to the ship. Now, most of the crew and passengers had been blown to red paste from the crash and the subsequent explosion, but the three found a few bodies. They found only a single survivor.”

Jay’s eyes began to light up with understanding. He sighed and gestured to himself.

“Me.”

He hesitated a few moments for that to sink in before continuing. “I was in critical condition, dying as Rame and Brianna carried me back to the farmhouse. Rame said I had... I don’t know, something like fifteen bone-deep gashes all over my body from the crash. He stitched me back together, operating non-stop for almost forty-eight hours. As a result, I have some pretty nasty scars as a reminder.”

“On your back,” she slowly said. “I've... I've seen them.”

He nodded, heart still pounding. His hands were shaking, so he balled them into fists. The memories he was bringing up were... painful to say the least.

“When I woke up,” he said, “I had no clue what had happened, where I was, or _who_ I was. I could barely talk, barely walk, barely do anything. I had become little more than an animal, a barely-sentient being at its most primitive, most desperate state.”

Jay nodded, all traces of anger gone now. In a soft voice she asked, “And... do you remember anything? You know, from... before? Because I‘ve heard of amnesia patients who-”

He shook his head tersely, interrupting her before she was even finished asking. “No. And I doubt I ever will.”

He paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts, then continued.

“Once everyone had calmed me down,” he said, “Rame began teaching me to talk, how to walk, how to fight, and eventually how to hunt. I learned quickly; within a year and a half I was up and running again, and had finished all the training that it usually takes _Mando_ _’ad_ initiates seven or more years to complete. With my combat training, I focused mainly on melee weapons, since my hand-eye coordination seemed to come back the fastest.

“Rame, Mia, and Brianna spread it around Keldabe that I was a newly-converted recruit to the ranks of the Mandalorians. It wasn’t unusual, since most naturally-born _Mando_ _’ad_ warriors were wiped out before the Clone Wars. I slowly made my name as a bounty hunter and... that’s about it. My sad, sorry excuse for a life can be summed up into a conversation that lasts two minutes. Next question?”

She winced at his cold tone, but hesitated, thinking over his story and trying to wrap her head around the revelation. Any trace of anger had been eradicated by his story.

He was glad she was actually believing him. Part of him had thought she would grow even more furious and claim he was making this all up.

“Um...” she eventually shook her head and frowned. “I’ve been wondering how... well, how you can move so fast and jump so high, things like that. Plus that whole psychometry thing... I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “To make a long story short: I’m not human.”

 _Another jaw-dropping surprise, I see_ , he saw with an inward wince. He hated talking about himself, and was growing more and more uncomfortable with every word that passed from his lips. And when people started looking at him like Jay was now...

She stared at him in disbelief for a few long moments, utter shock and surprise in her gaze. After a time, she looked down at the table, then back up to him.

“ _What_?” she murmured. “But I thought-”

He interrupted her. “I know I _look_ human, but I’m not. _Ori'haat._ ”

“But...” she shook her head and said, “But _how_? I’ve seen you... you know, without your helmet... from the back... and you don’t _look_ non-human.”

He shrugged. “A little over a month after Rame found me, I was doing some rudimentary training exercises and I found that I could push myself harder than anyone else around me, could perform better than anyone else. I didn’t know what to think of it. I had perfect balance, supreme reflexes, amazing hand-eye coordination. I could see better in the dark, fight harder than the most seasoned _Mando_ trainer, and I could run faster than even the fastest _Mando_ _’ad_ hunter. It was incredible.

“Eventually, Rame started asking the same questions you are: how is it possible for me to be so much faster, stronger, et-cetera, when I looked no different from any other thirteen-year-old kid? So he took me to a doctor to find out. The doc took a sample of my blood to test my DNA - his first thought was that I was some kind of super-bred clone. Turns out I’m a very rare sub-species of humanoid Kiffar called a Salpatian. The doctor that examined my blood hadn’t seen one of my kind in over twenty years. I think it’s safe to assume that I’m one of the last.”

“And that explains the psychometry?”

He nodded. “The doc said that the ability sometimes manifests itself among Kiffar every few generations. It's become a common misconception that psychometry is somehow liked with Force abilities, but it's not. It's just that most Kiffar who can use the ability also happen to be able to use the Force.”

“And you can't?”

He shook his head. “I was telling the truth when I told you that I'm not Force-sensitive.”

He sighed. “The doctor also found that due to an ancient - possibly prehistoric - genetic adaptation, I am superior in almost every way to normal human beings. I have twice as many neuron dendrites as normal humans, giving me reflexes far superior to any human's. I have some kind of enhanced molecular muscle and bone structure, making me stronger and tougher than typical humans. My ocular nerves are more powerful than a human's, giving me better vision and the ability to see fairly well in the dark. The list goes on and on.”

“You wanted to know what I am?” He shrugged and said, “I am a naturally-created, genetically and biologically superior superhuman, for want of a better term. Enlightening?”

“I...” Jay licked her lips. “I don't know what to say.”

He shrugged silently, his gaze turning to the tabletop. “Any other questions?”

“Well... what about the Tracker?” she said quietly. “Why is he after you?”

“The Tracker...” Vhetin whispered, looking up and staring at the ceiling. “Yet another thing that's destroying my life piece by piece.”

“Cin,” she said quietly, leaning across the table, “I need to know. If I know why he wants to kill you, I can help you stop him.”

“He doesn't want to kill me,” Vhetin said. “He has specific orders to take me alive.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “I'll have to explain some other things first.

“The Tracker,” he said, “was one of the members of the ICF, the Imperial black-ops team that I used to be a part of. He was one of our best operatives, though he had a reputation for bloodthirstiness. He was one of our best hunters and could track down a target long after even I had given up. One time he went AWOL for two months and showed up with a target that we all thought was dead. After that, we nicknamed him the Tracker.”

“But why is he after you?”

“Because of my... abilities.”

She frowned. “The Empire wants you back in the ICF?”

He chuckled, though there was no amusement in the sound. “You misunderstand. I told you once that I left the ICF because they asked me to do things I wasn't comfortable with.”

She nodded. “I remember.”

“That wasn't the whole reason. They were secretly taking samples of my blood, claiming it was all part of routine medical tests. What I didn't know until much later was that they were actually trying to isolate the DNA sequence that caused my species' biological mutation from normal Kiffar physiology. They figured that if they could isolate the sequence, they could somehow engineer a serum that could alter the biological makeup of normal humans and give them all the abilities I possess. Reflexes, strength, speed, psychometry...”

“And if they managed to make it work,” she said quietly, “they could make an army of loyal supersoldiers.”

“And use them to slaughter countless innocent lives as they tighten their control over the galaxy,” he said, nodding. “A few weeks before I left the ICF, I found out what they were doing. They called it the Whiteclaw Project, and it was apparently a huge priority. Jaing found out they were moving millions of credits to the operation daily.”

“And when you left the ICF, they sent their most lethal assassin to forcibly bring you back,” she said. “But... why has it taken him so long to find you?”

“It hasn't,” Vhetin said. “He's been on my trail for over a year. Since well before I rescued you from BlueSend Prison.”

She blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

He powered up a holoprojector set into the tabletop, setting it to display several HoloNet news reports. He pulled up the first one and gestured for her to read it.

She squinted as she read the flickering, holographic words. “Nar Shadda, eleven months ago... Duro civilian attacked by mysterious helmeted thug... civilian recovering in medcenter ICU, expected to make full recovery... identity of culprit unknown.”

She frowned at Vhetin and said, “Was that... Tal Wam?”

Vhetin nodded. “The Tracker found him only weeks after he helped us during the Kassh contract.”

He pulled up another file, this one a Black Sun memo, and Jay read that one aloud as well. “Telos, three months ago... It is with great sadness that we must announce the death of... Operative Tametha Warren?”

Vhetin nodded again. “The Tracker hunted her down and interrogated her. Demanded to know my location. When she wouldn't give it up, he shot her. She died before locals could get her to a medcenter.”

Jay looked horrified. “And Tarron...”

“Was attacked two weeks ago by the Tracker. Thankfully, he managed to escape with his life. Kalyn Farnmir was ambushed soon after that.”

“So the Tracker...” she said slowly, looking down at the tabletop, “he's been right behind us. Every time we've left a planet-”

“He showed up almost immediately after,” Vhetin said. He gestured to the HoloNet reports. “I have information from one source or another that places him at the scene of virtually every planet we've visited over the past year. Coruscant, Rhen Var, Telos, Tachador... I even have an Imperial report that says he showed up on Xexeron after we dealt with Darth Draco. He set up here on Mon Cal after our contract for Jolee Uruc.”

“Why...” she looked up at him, looking saddened and betrayed. “Why didn't you _tell_ me? I-I mean, if this guy was hunting down our allies, didn't it occur to you that me might come after _me?_ ”

“I wanted to tell you, Jay,” he said honestly. “I must have come within an inch of spilling everything a hundred times over. Keeping this secret – _all_ these secrets -  from you was a daily struggle. But I figured that what you didn't know couldn't hurt you. Even if the Tracker found you, you could honestly say that you knew nothing about my past.”

“That didn't stop him from beating Tal Wam or Tarron to a pulp,” Jay said. “That didn't stop him from _killing_ Operative Warren!”

“Jay,” he said as she stood and turned her back to him. “Please, try to understand...”

“I...” she sighed and shook her head. “I understand, Cin. I hate to say it, but I actually do understand why you kept all this from me. But that doesn't mean I agree with you. And it doesn't mean I'll ever forgive you.”

He sighed and let his shoulders slump in defeat. He was surprised at her next words, however.

“But I'm not going to let my anger stop me from helping you.”

“What?” he said, looking up sharply.

She half-turned toward him. “You need my help. And I'll give it, on one condition.”

“Name it,” he said. “Anything.”

“When we're done with this mess,” she said, “no more secrets between us. Okay? _None_.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “I swear. _Haat, ijaa, haa'it_.”

“And,” she continued quietly, “when we get back to Keldabe, you and I are going to have a talk about where we stand as far as this partnership is concerned.”

“You... you don't want to work together any more?” he said. For some reason, the thought frightened him more than the idea of coming clean with his past had.

But she just shook her head and sighed, “I don't know, Cin. I just don't know.”

She stepped away, heading down the hall toward the crew's quarters she used while she was traveling onboard _Void_. “I need to think about all this. Call me when we're ready to head out again.”

He watched her key open the door to the crew's quarters and disappear inside without so much as a glance his way. And as soon as the door slid shut behind her, Vhetin sat heavily in his chair. He cradled his helmeted head in his hands and closed his eyes. He didn't move for a very long time.


	13. Striking Back

**Gredon City Spaceport, two hours later**

“Tarron,” Vhetin said, striding down _Void_ 's landing ramp. “I didn't expect you up and about so soon.”

“It's incredible,” the Journeyman Protector said, “how a pocketful of credits can convince a couple down-on-their luck nurses and medcenter workers to turn a blind eye. The doctors claim I'm still supposed to be bed-ridden. I disagreed.”

He had replaced his destroyed set of original armor with an identical second brown-colored chest plate, strapped over his heavily bandaged chest. He'd suffered several blaster wounds, but he was going to be fine. He was already recovering much of his mobility and strength.

Jay followed Vhetin down _Void_ 's landing ramp, pulling on her borrowed Mandalorian Protector armor. “I think you should sit this one out, Tarron. You're wounded, and that will only-”

“Slow you down?”

She frowned at him. “No, I was going to say _get you hurt_ _again._ ”

Venku strode up behind Tarron and said, “So where do we stand? We have no leads, no clue that the Tracker is still alive-”

“He's alive,” Vhetin growled. “I survived the explosion. You can count on him surviving it too.”

“So what do we do?” the young Mandalorian asked.

“This entire time,” Vhetin said, “the Tracker has caught us off-balance. He's been attacking us on our home turf, when we least expect it. When combined with his impressive arsenal, it's almost enough to bring us down.”

“Eventually,” Jay said, staring at him with a gaze that could have been frustrated, skeptical, or forgiving, “it's going to succeed.”

“Not if we take the offensive,” he said, holding her gaze. He cursed his helmet, how it showed nothing of his expression. He hoped she could somehow tell how sorry he was for keeping so many secrets from her.

If she had forgiven him, she did a terrific job of keeping it a secret. She just raised an eyebrow and said, “And how exactly are we going to do that?”

“We have the arsenal,” Vhetin said, “and our appearance at his hideout managed to catch the Tracker by surprise. All we need now is to continue to knock him off balance. If we're lucky, we may be able to either kill him or distract him long enough for us to escape.”

He turned to Jay and said, “Grab any gear you can. Guns, grenades, vibroblades, anything. Pack it together and head to the enforcement office. I'll give you more details when you get there.”

She frowned curiously, then turned and moved to step back into the ship. He called after her and added, “And ditch that armor. We're going to need you to look a little more vulnerable than that.”

She frowned again, then shrugged and said, “Whatever. You're the one with the plan.”

As she disappeared back inside _Void_ , he turned to face Venku and Tarron and said, “Venku, you head back to Imperial garrison command. Link up with Pelano. Again, I'll give you more details when you get there.”

“Okay,” Venku said, “but what exactly are we doing?”

Vhetin's smile grew wider. “We're going to take a leaf out of the Tracker's book. We're going to hunt the hunter.”

~~~~~~~~

The Tracker had run from the apartment building for a good half-hour, making damn sure no one was following him. He'd managed to make it out of the building and halfway across the street before the tricardium had exploded. The force of the explosion and the ensuing collapse of the apartment complex had knocked him flat on his face and shattered the windows of every speeder on the street. Only moments after the tricardium had detonated, the apartment had collapsed in on itself, leaving behind little more than a flaming ruin of twisted support pylons, large chunks of duracrete, and shattered glass.

He had known it wouldn't take long for enforcement officers to show up and start snooping about, so he'd run. As fast as he could, as far as he could. The street signs had flashed by and the Tracker had barely paused to think about where he was going.

Now, half an hour later, he finally slowed to a stop. His breath was coming in panting gasps and his hands were shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion. When he finally took a moment to find just where he had stopped, he found that he was almost two miles to the northeast of the apartment complex, not far from the enforcement office. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting long shadows on the street. He assumed that he probably had an hour of daylight left. Maybe less.

He shook his head and let out a wheezing cough as he struggled to catch his breath. Vhetin had truly surprised him by shooting the tricardium. As tough as he knew the Mandalorian to be, he hadn't been expecting that.

 _I'm not the suicidal type_ , Vhetin had said. _But if I have to die in order to kill you and keep the Imperials from killing countless more, I'm willing to do it._

The Tracker was sure Vhetin had survived. The bucket-head was too lucky and the Tracker too unlucky for everything to have ended so simply now. The Mandalorian would be back, and soon. The Tracker needed to regroup with Imperial forces and think of a plan.

His job was far from over. If Vhetin was dead, he still needed to collect the body and deliver it to the Whiteclaw scientists for genetic testing. If the damn bucket-head was still alive, he needed to subdue him and transport him into the more-than-capable hands of Darth Vader and his minions.

He looked up, his breath coming easier now, and slowly took in his surroundings. He had halted on a deserted side-street, narrow and flanked on both sides by tall buildings. He studied the street for a few moments more, then his eyes narrowed and he slowly stood to his full height, drawing one of his pistols from its holster on his hip.

There was a woman standing on the street ahead of him. Maybe twenty, twenty-five yards away. Well within blaster range.

She stepped toward him casually, almost nonchalantly. The Verpine blaster pistol in her hand showed her that she was far from unconcerned, however. Her face was thrown into shadow as the tropical sun sank lower in the sky.

“So,” the Tracker slowly said, clicking the safety off his weapon, “are you here the orders of your Mando partner? Or are you here to avenge him?”

“Oh he's alive,” the woman said, still walking toward him. She stepped right past him, beginning to circle him like a Grr Cat circling its prey. “He's _very_ alive. And more than weakening him, now you've just pissed him off.”

“Tough words,” the Tracker said, watching the woman as she circled him a second time, “from a Mandalorian who chooses to send a woman to fight his battles.”

“Careful,” she said, shaking her blaster in front of him. “I have a gun. Talk like that could get you hurt.”

She finally came to a halt in front of him and folded her arms across her chest. “I know why you're after Vhetin. I know _everything_ now. And I'll have you know now that I will not let you get to him.”

“Your loyalty to your partner is commendable,” he hissed from behind his helmet faceplate. He began circling her now, watching her intently with his icy blue eyes. “But, I think, pointless in the end.”

She turned to follow him with her eyes, but he stepped behind her and hissed in her ear, “Oh yes... your partner has come clean with you now, but what other secrets does he hide behind that helmet? After everything he's told you, how much do you _really_ know about him?”

“I know enough,” she said. “I know enough now to understand that he's the good guy and you're the bad guy. And that's enough for me.”

“Good,” he said, then pressed his pistol into the small of her back. “It's good to know you will die with such certainty.”

Surprisingly, she didn't stiffen in fear or surprise. She didn't react at all besides letting out a quiet sigh and saying, “Lower your weapon.”

“Why? You're here to kill me.”

“Naturally.”

“Then why should I stop?” he said, the smooth metal of his faceplate only centimeters from her ear. “Why don't I just nip this potential firefight in the bud?”

The woman looked up and made some motion with her eyes. She must have, because only a moment later he heard the a multitude of rifles cycle up. His eyes snapped up in time to see no less than fifty armored enforcement officers spring up from their hiding places on rooftops. All around, the Tracker saw the emblem of the local SWAT team.

The woman laughed smugly and turned to face him. As he watched, she slowly took a step back and raised her own pistol, aiming it squarely at his helmet forehead.

“That's why,” she said.

~~~~~~~~

Jay had to admit, drawing the Tracker into her little trap had been easier than she had anticipated. Vhetin had told her that his enemy had split and run the moment he'd shot the tricardium bricks. He didn't believe the Tracker was dead, so he had sent Jay to hamper the assassin's progress. It wasn't hard, at least not while she was working with the enforcement office. An officer standing on a street corner here, a routine traffic blockade there... With an organization as large as the Gredon City Enforcement Office, it had taken only minutes to subtly nudge the Tracker straight to Jay's position. After that, it was only a matter of setting up the Enforcement Office's SWAT division as a trap.

Vhetin would be proud.

“Drop your weapon,” she said slowly, “and this will all end easy. Refuse, and it will end even easier.”

The Tracker didn't move. His pale blue eyes darted around the street, taking in the threat of the SWAT officers on the rooftops. Eventually, he looked back at her and said, “No.”

She shrugged and said, “If that's your choice.”

“No,” he said calmly, raising a finger at her, “not because I have some kind of death wish like your idiot partner, but...”

He raised his hand and circled two fingers in the air. Jay's feelings of triumph vanished as she heard the sound of a multitude of footsteps, growing closer as they approached from a nearby street.

“You see,” the Tracker chuckled, taking several steps back, “you thought you were so _clever_ , luring me to this position. And I agree. It's amazing how much someone with the right contacts can get done from the calling end of a comm unit.

“But,” he continued, “you aren't the only one with a comm.”

Jay fell back and raised her pistol as six stormtrooper columns, ten rows deep, appeared from down a side-street. Their white armor glinted in the light of the setting sun, their expressionless faceplates staring dutifully ahead as they marched straight for the Tracker.

He let out a triumphant laugh as the troopers fanned out, aiming their weapons at Jay and the SWAT officers above them. Within a few moments, Jay found herself staring down the barrels of at least ten Imperial blasters.

 _Fierfek_ , she thought. _This got out of hand quickly._

A voice crackled over her comm earpiece. “Uh, Blue Five here... are we still going to engage? These guys are military. We wouldn't want to create an incident with Imperial Command.”

The SWAT officer was right in that they didn't want to start some kind of conflict between Mon Calamari Imperial Command and the local enforcement office. But unless the Tracker had suddenly found over fifty Imperial defectors, the presence of the stormtroopers meant that he was working with Imperial Command. And that meant that Imperial Command was aiding a criminal, and it was the enforcement office's duty to bring him and his supporters to justice. She balled her right hand into a fist, a signal to continue with the operation as planned.

“Roger that, Blue Leader,” the SWAT officer said. “Continuing with the operation. Waiting for your word.”

She narrowed her eyes at the Tracker and said, “You know this isn't your smartest move.”

He shrugged. “If I live, I go on to hunt down your partner. If I don't, someone else will take my place. Either way, you're screwed.”

She raised her blaster, surprised at her own bravery. “We'll see.”

Then she fired as quickly as her finger could mash the firing stud. She backpedaled the whole way, not even aiming. The Tracker ducked as yellow blaster bolts flashed over his durasteel face mask. He aimed both his pistols and fired wildly. Blaster bolts ricocheted off the duracrete or exploded where they hit in small flashes of light and smoke.

The SWAT officers opened fire as well, lighting up the shadowy street with blue-white blaster fire. The stormtroopers scattered, responding with bright red fire of their own. She heard the Tracker shouting, “No! Focus on the girl! The girl!”

Jay leaped for cover behind a dumpster as scarlet blaster bolts stitched the sidewalk at her feet. She rose to her knees, readjusting her grip on her pistol and saying, “Blue Leader here. Focus your fire on the center of the stormtrooper formation. Scatter them!”

“Affirmative.”

The SWAT teams concentrated their fire on the center of the stormtroopers and the white-armored soldiers began to fall in droves. The Imperial soldiers managed to land a few shots of their own, and several SWAT officers screamed and plummeted from their rooftop posts. The remaining officers increased their fire, shouting orders to each other and ducking to avoid blaster fire. Troopers on the dark street below cursed and split up, heading for better cover, only to be picked off by the officers on the rooftops.

“We've got 'em on the run!” one officer reported.

“Good!” Jay shouted, peeking out from cover and firing twice at a trooper heading for her position. The soldier stumbled and fell, two holes blasted through his chest plate. “Start the second phase!”

Within moments a warbling roar drowned out the din of blaster fire. A split-second later, two LAAT/i dropships, painted in enforcement office white and black, thundered over the rooftops and rotated into position over the stormtrooper column. Spotlights mounted on the turret pods of the ships flared to life, catching troopers in brilliant cones of blinding white light. The passenger bay doors slid open with a loud _cha-chunk_ and black-armored SWAT officers leaped out with rappel lines. They swiftly descended to the street and surrounded the remaining stormtroopers.

“ _This is Officer Venn Cartman of the Gredon City Law Enforcement Office_ ,” a voice blared over the intercom mounted on one of the laaties. “ _Surrender your weapons. You will be taken into custody._ _”_

Some of the troopers tossed aside their weapons and raised their hands. The rest just snapped their rifles to their shoulders and opened up. SWAT officers shouted and ran for cover and Jay cursed as the dumpster where she was hiding once again became a target for enemy fire.

She unclipped an hourglass-shaped stun grenade from her belt, hit the primer button, and tossed it out into the street. She was close enough to hear it bounce across the sidewalk, then she turned away and plugged her ears as best as she could.

An explosion of light and sound shook the street beyond the dumpster. She grimaced at the detonation, then unplugged her ears in time to listen to stormtroopers scream and groan. She looked out from behind the dumpster and saw the entirety of the stormtrooper platoon – and several SWAT officers, regrettably – stumbling about and covering their earpieces.

One figure in particular caught her eye as he staggered away toward a side street. She scowled and quickly rose to her feet, sprinting after the Tracker as he slowly made his staggering, disjointed escape.

“Tracker!” she shouted as she grew closer. “Put your hands on your head and get on your knees!”

But she had once again underestimated him. When she got close enough to consider cuffing him, he unexpectedly lashed out with a backhand slap that knocked her off her feet. Her head slammed against a lamp post and her vision burst into stars. She shook her head to clear it, watching through blurry vision as the Tracker staggered away down the street and out of sight.

She struggled back to her feet, rubbing her aching head, and headed after him. “Ugh,” she said over her comm. “The Tracker's on the move. I'm in pursuit.”

“Copy that, Blue Leader,” Officer Cartman said. “We have the situation here under control. I have Moff Pelano on comms and he's ordering the troopers to stand down.”

“Good,” she said, stepping up her pace as she saw the Tracker gain speed and sprint down a branching street. “Can you spare a detachment of SWAT officers to help me out?”

“Only two or three,” Cartman said, his tone apologetic. “Any more, and we won't have enough stun cuffs to arrest these white jobs.”

“Track my comm,” she said, dashing around the corner. She saw the Tracker hurrying away further up the street. “Send those officers as soon as you can.”

“Copy.”

She kept the comm channel open so Cartman could track it, then doubled her pace. She flew down the street, steadily gaining on the Tracker. She pulled a fragmentation grenade from her jacket pocket, primed it, and lobbed it through the air at him. It bounced across the street before detonating in a ball of red-orange flame. The force of the blast made the Tracker stagger, off-balance for just long enough for Jay to close the gap between them.

Just as she was about to lash out with an incapacitating punch to his spine, he suddenly spun and Jay staggered back, blood seeping down her forehead and into her eyes. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision, and saw the blurry image of the Tracker's fist flying straight for her.

His punch caught her painfully in the collarbone, knocking her back a few steps. He pressed his vicious attack with another punch to her gut that made her double over with a groan. Before he could hit her again, she quickly reached out and stealthily tucked something under his coat sleeve. She had barely finished before he pulled back his fist and finished her off with an uppercut to the chin. She felt her teeth slap together with a sharp _clack_ and her vision once more exploded into stars. She fell heavily on her back, her pistol skittering away.

She dazedly wiped her eyes, her entire hand coming away wet with blood. Her head was pounding as she struggled to rise to her feet again. She failed and fell limp against the ground, breathing hard as pain coursed through her body.

The Tracker knelt over her, blue eyes blazing furiously. A vibroblade, dripping with her blood, was clasped in his left hand. He cocked his helmeted head and snarled, “You're either very brave or very stupid, girl.”

“It's a... little of both,” she gasped with a hoarse laugh.

He narrowed his eyes. “Your loss, bitch. You gave it your best shot and you failed.”

He stepped back and drew a pistol in one hand. He stared at her coldly, then murmured, “Suffer the consequences.”

Then he shot her. Jay's eyes flew wide and a shocked scream ripped itself from her throat as pure agony washed through her chest. The Tracker just narrowed his eyes and fired again. And again.

Jay stared at him, eyes wide, then looked down with disbelief and watched blood begin to spread across the white undershirt she wore under her jacket. She looked up at the Tracker once more, then slumped and slowly fell still. Her eyes stared lifelessly up at the sky and her breath slowly faded into silence.

The Tracker watched her dispassionately, then holstered his weapon and walked away. After a few moments, he turned a corner and vanished without looking back.

As soon as he was out of sight, Jay blinked. She looked around, watching for any sign of the Tracker, then groaned and sat up, holding a hand to her bleeding chest and the other to her bleeding forehead. She wiped her eyes as she activated her comm and gasped, “Cin. Cin, come in.”

“Vhetin here,” came her partner's calm reply. “Did you do it?”

She nodded as she slowly got to her feet, still holding her chest. “I planted the beacon in the Tracker's sleeve. Under the hem, so he won't find it any time soon.”

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “We'll be able to follow his every move from now on. How did the armor work?”

She grunted as she pulled up her bloodstained shirt and inspected the hourglass-shaped armor plates underneath. “Not as well as I would have liked. I'm surprised this sparring armor still held, after being shot by Kassh that one time.”

“I was asking if you were all right.”

She smiled, touched by the note of concern in his voice. “I'm probably going to bruise, and the Tracker managed to cut my forehead. Apart from that, I'm fine. The bloodpacks were apparently realistic enough to fool the Tracker.”

“Thank Venku,” Vhetin said. “The packs were his idea.”

“Don't mention it,” the Mandalorian said over another comm line. He was currently on his way to work on his part of the plan. “I used to date an _aruetii_ actress who taught me all about that kind of stuff. I was surprised how realistic those bloodpacks look.”

She pulled the burst packs, splattered with red dye, from her armor and tossed them aside. “I'm going to need a change of clothes before we head out again,” she muttered as she slowly began limping down the street. Her stomach sent a spike of pain through her abdomen with every step and her forehead was still bleeding. “I can't gallivant around the city looking like this. Can someone come pick me up?”

“Already on my way,” Vhetin said. He paused, then said, “Thank you, Jay.”

She nodded. “I wish I could tell you _anytime_ , but I'd be lying.”

He chuckled quietly as _Void_ blasted over the rooftops. It hovered above the street for a moment, then slowly rotated and began to sink down through the air. As soon as it was close enough, the downdraft of its repulsors kicking up random scraps of trash scattered about the street, the landing ramp opened up and slid down to beckon her inside. Vhetin was standing on the ramp and he offered her a hand to help her up.

“Welcome back,” he said.

~~~~~~~~~

**Gredon City Imperial Garrison Command**

The Tracker strode down the hall, cursing as he rubbed his throbbing shoulder. He'd been clipped in the shoulder by a stray blaster bolt during the short-lived firefight with that bounty hunter and her SWAT lackeys. The wound wasn't serious, but it was annoying.

 _At least she's dead_ , he thought. _One more enemy down. Might demoralize the others as well._

He strode past elegant transparisteel windows that looked out over the endless seascape of Mon Calamari. The spray that crashed against the walls of Imperial Command sent droplets of water pattering against the window surface, covering the view outside with a disconcerting ripple effect.

 _Of all the planets in the galaxy_ , he thought, grimacing behind his mask, _I hate Mon Calamari the most. If I never return here, It'll be too soon._

In fact, that was why he was here in the first place. He was heading for a meeting with Moff Pelano to straighten out the problem of the bounty hunters. If he could somehow convince Pelano that the hunters were a genuine threat, the Moff could send his own impressive number of stormtroopers to hunt them down. Maybe that freak Vhetin would even run back to Mandalore, where the Tracker would have an easier time catching him away from his allies.

He was surprised by the violence with which Vhetin resisted the Tracker's attacks. He had been told that Vhetin's sense of loyalty would lead him to turn himself over once his allies were threatened. But Vhetin had not only ignored the pain the Tracker had inflicted on the Mandalorian's contacts, but hadn't hesitated to mow down multiple stormtroopers – innocent lives by the Mando's sense of morality – in order to escape.

If he was lucky, Pelano would listen to reason and give the Tracker all the stormtroopers he needed. And with the personal permission of Lord Vader to do whatever was necessary to bring Vhetin down, the Tracker was feeling very lucky.

His masked face turned down in a scowl. This mission was getting on his nerves. When he had first been tasked to bring Cin Vhetin back to Whiteclaw scientists, he had been told that it would be a simple job. He had been assured that Vhetin's strict sense of morality would guarantee a quick and easy capture. But here the Tracker was, more than a year later, and he was no closer to success.

A cold fury ran through his veins at the thought of everything he'd put up with during his hunt for Vhetin. He'd been shot at, ambushed, and attacked with lightsabers, and that was all just over the past few days. He was lucky to be alive, but that didn't matter to Vader or the Whiteclaw scientists. It was just the same generic orders over and over: _Capture Cin Vhetin. He is essential to our plans. Capture Vhetin. The scientists cannot continue their research without him._

Why didn't Vhetin do the smart thing and just _give up?_ That dumb bucket-head must have known that even if the Tracker failed, Vader would just send more people after him. Even if he miraculously managed to escape, it was only postponing the inevitable.

He turned the corner to find Pelano's two Blue Guards standing dutifully at the entrance to the Moff's office, their force pikes held at the ready in front of them. As the Tracker neared them, they crossed their pikes in an X in front of him, barring his approach.

“Apologies, sir,” one of the Blue Guards growled, “but the Moff has denied you access to this facility.”

“Oh really?” the Tracker said, his voice dangerously low. “Is that a fact?”

“It is,” the Guard said. “You've cost Moff Pelano too many trooper lives and he-”

The man was cut off as the Tracker pulled two vibroblades from his belt and plunged them into the Guard's throats. The two Imperials stiffened and one of them let out a pained gurgle before they slumped to the floor in a clatter of armor plating. The Tracker looked at them with a sneer, then calmly stepped over their bodies and pushed open the doors to Moff Pelano's office.

“Your allegiance to Lord Vader,” he called to the Moff as he entered, “seems to have lessened since I last saw you.”

Pelano looked up from a stack of flimsi on his desk with a scowl. The Tracker casually sheathed his vibroblades back on his belt, making sure Pelano saw the motion. The man needed to learn that he was expendable, and the Tracker could kill him without any repercussions.

“What's wrong?” the Tracker growled insincerely. “You look... upset.”

“With good reason,” he said angrily. He gestured to the flimsi and said, “This is the incident report from your little interaction with Miss Moqena and the Gredon City Enforcement Office. Do you have _any_ idea how much that altercation is going to cost Imperial Command?”

“I dealt with the situation as I saw fit. I have permission to do that.”

“You got twenty-five stormtroopers _killed_! Those who survived were arrested!”

“They are replaceable,” the Tracker said nonchalantly. “Surely an experienced Imperial politicians such as yourself will know that.”

“That is not the point,” Pelano said, standing. “Lord Vader may find such a dramatic loss of personnel acceptable, but he does not have to deal with the reports. He does not have to find replacements. He does not have to tell their _families_ for the Force's sake!”

The Moff pointed a finger at the Tracker and said, “I allowed you to run amok on my planet for far too long, assassin. As the Moff in charge of Mon Calamari, I will no longer tolerate the recklessness with which you throw away my soldier's lives.”

The Tracker narrowed his eyes. “Are you refusing Lord Vader's direct orders?”

“Of course not,” Pelano said, narrowing his own eyes. “But I am, as you so eloquently stated, an experienced Imperial politician.”

At a gesture, two hidden doors in the walls slid open and at least ten stormtroopers stepped out from each. They fanned out along the walls, aiming their rifles at the Tracker.

“I know how to make people disappear,” Pelano said, raising an eyebrow. “And I know how to keep it from the eyes of my superiors.”

The Tracker spat a curse and reached for his pistols, but a surprising sound made him stop.

Someone was _clapping_.

As the Tracker watched, a Mandalorian in multicolored armor strode out of one of the hidden compartments, applauding him with a laugh.

“Well well,” the Mando said. “You've managed to send us on quite the wild bantha chase, _ner vod_. I guess the tables have turned on you, huh?”

He folded his arms and shook his head in amusement. “I'm almost sorry to see it end like this, I really am.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” the Tracker said, eying the man's armor. “A soldier from the Mandalorian Rainbow Brigade?”

The Mando clenched a fist in irritation. “I take it back. I can't wait to see you fry.”

The Tracker raised his blaster and snarled, “You first, bucket-head,” then opened fire. Blaster bolts slammed into the Mandalorian's stomach plate, sending him crashing back against the wall.

The stormtroopers almost immediately opened fire. Even Pelano drew a blaster pistol from under his desk and began shooting. The Tracker somersaulted out of the direct line of fire, coming to his feet and snapping off several well-aimed shots that dropped five troopers in the blink of an eye. Then, knowing he was outnumbered, he turned and sprinted out the doors and down the hall.

“No!” he heard the multicolored Mandalorian shout from behind him. “Don't let him escape!”

Then the Tracker turned the corner and doubled his pace, heading straight for the exit. He heard the pounding of armored boots behind him and knew the Mandalorian was right behind him. He held his pistol over his shoulder and fired blindly behind him, listening to the blaster bolts ricochet off the walls and floor.

The Mandalorian returned fire, stitching the ground at the Tracker's feet with fire. The Tracker stumbled and the Mando took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness. The Tracker was slammed into the floor as his pursuer tackled him from behind. They rolled across the hallway, kicking and punching at each other. The Tracker managed to plant his fist in the Mando's face plate, but only managed to send an agonizing wave of pain through his arm.

The Mandalorian struggled to his feet, drawing his pistol and aiming it at the Tracker. He was breathing hard, his voice rasping over his vocoder.

“Give it up, Tracker,” he gasped. “You've lost.”

The Tracker snarled and drew a pistol of his own. He fired before the Mandalorian could, catching the multicolored soldier in the shoulder pad. Out of reflex, he dropped his pistol.

The Tracker flipped nimbly to his feet, firing twice more at the Mandalorian. The man staggered before turning and sprinting away down the hall. The situations were suddenly reversed, and the Tracker became the pursuer. He dashed down the hall as well, firing as he went.

The Mandalorian threw himself around a corner, the Tracker close behind. He felt a quick flash of triumph as he saw just where their chase had led them: a dead end passageway ending with a transparisteel window overlooking the ocean. The Mandalorian barely paused, though. He instead raised his right arm and fired a wrist-mounted rocket at the window.

The transparisteel exploded outward in a cloud of shattered synthetic glass, taking a good bit of the wall with it. As the cloud of debris slowly settled, the Mandalorian charged through it and leaped out into open air. He seemed to hover for a moment, pinwheeling his arms for balance, then plunged down out of sight.

The Tracker skidded to a halt at the edge of the drop over the water, staring down at the spot his opponent had disappeared.

Only moments later, he watched as the Mando hovered back into sight, standing on the bulkheads of a large, spearhead-shaped transport ship. He waved and saluted to the Tracker as the ship slowly roared away. The Tracker saw Vhetin's partner, the woman he thought he had killed, standing just behind him.

“You almost got me, Tracker!” the Mandalorian called before the ship sped away toward the horizon. “Maybe next time!”

The Tracker clenched a fist. He holstered his pistol and watched through narrowed eyes as the ship shrank into the distance, then bowed his head slightly and thought, _Well played, Mandalorian._

He turned as he heard the pounding of armored boot steps behind him, in time to see the stormtroopers sprint around the corner. The pointed at him and shouted, “There he is! Blast him!”

The Tracker cursed again, then turned and leaped out through the window like the Mando had done before. He swiveled in mid-air, angling until he was falling face-first toward the water. He plunged into the blue waves, swimming down as far as he could while sizzling blaster bolts turned the water around him to superheated steam.

He swam under the water until his lungs burned, then forced himself to swim even farther. It was a full two and a half minutes before he broke through the surface of the water and sucked in a lungful of warm tropical air. He shook water from the inside of his mask and looked out to see the boxy structure of Imperial Command far off in the distance.

The Tracker stared at the building, then cursed and began swimming toward the expansive floating sprawl of Gredon City.

 _Screw my orders,_ he thought. _When I find that black-armored bucket-head, I'm going to kriffing kill him._


	14. The Ultimatum

Vhetin was waiting for Jay and Venku at the center table. He cocked his head as they entered and said, “Good job back there.”

Venku grimaced and rubbed his shoulder, which he'd apparently cut while leaping through the transparisteel window. “Thanks. Although I'm starting to be a little more sympathetic to your problem, Vhetin. That Tracker is one badass son of a bitch.”

“You got it easy,” Jay said, settling herself down with a grimace. “I was shot. Three times.”

Tarron shook his head. “As was I.”

“We've all had a rough couple of days,” Vhetin said quietly. “For now, we have more important things to do than sit around trading stories about how badly he's kicked our asses. We can track his location for now, thanks to the beacon Jay managed to plant on him. We need to move quickly to put the next part of the plan into effect.”

“The next part,” Jay echoed. “Which would be what?”

Vhetin stood and pulled a comm unit out of one of his belt pouches. It was one of the many disposable comms he carried, so he could make untraceable calls and destroy the unit as soon as he was finished. He typed in a code, hesitating for a moment before entering the final digit.

“What are you doing?”

He sighed, then hit the final button. He plugged the comm into his gauntlet so the rest could hear his call. A dialing tone buzzed through the room, then another, then a third. Finally, someone on the other end picked up the call and Vhetin motioned everyone to be quiet.

“State your business,” came the unmistakeable voice of the Tracker.

Jay's eyebrows shot up, but apart from that everyone was silent and still, listening to the conversation.

“You know who this is,” Vhetin said.

There was silence for a few moments. Then the Tracker murmured, “Vhetin... I should have known you would come to gloat.”

“I'm not here to gloat,” Vhetin said. “I'm just trying to talk.”

“Then speak.”

“We want the same thing, you and me,” he said. “And we're both willing to do just about anything to get it.”

“Oh?” the Tracker said. “And what would that be?”

“This stupid competition between us,” Vhetin said, “over. This back-and-forth fighting has to stop.”

“And what do you propose? The both of us just going our separate ways? You know that's not going to happen.”

“I'm not stupid enough to try that,” Vhetin said. “I'm proposing one last fight between you and me, in the manner of ancient _Mando'ad_ warriors. One-on-one, no retreat, no victory until one of us is dead.”

 _What?_ he saw Jay mouth at him. _Are you crazy?_

He shook his head, thinking, _Don't try and change my mind._

“And how would that solve anything?”

“Simple,” Vhetin said. “If I fall, you can finish your job and finally move on. If I win, you die and I'll get a couple months of peace before the Imperials send another assassin after me.”

“Sorry,” the Tracker said. “But I never walk willingly into situations where I can't guarantee I'll walk out.”

“Then we'll just continue the way we are now? Trading half-victories back and forth until _haran_ freezes over?”

There was a long pause from over the comm. The Tracker finally growled, “Why are you doing this? After a year of running, why start this now?”

“Before, I was determined,” Vhetin said, meeting his partner's gaze. “I was sure I could take you. Now I'm not the only one who stands to lose something.”

“Ah,” the Tracker sighed, sounding triumphant, “so it's your allies you worry for.”

“Yes,” Vhetin replied evenly, his eyes still on Jay. “I won't let you harm them any more. This started with you and me alone, and it will end with you and me alone. I trust that is satisfactory?”

It was a long time before the Tracker said, “All right. I accept your challenge. Name a time and place.”

Vhetin saw Jay shaking her head, silently pleading with him not to do what he was about to do. He pointedly looked away from her and said, “Gredon City Spaceport, Bay Thirty-One, one hour from now. Come alone.”

Then he shut off the comm and unclipped it from his gauntlet. He tucked it back into his belt and folded his arms across his chest, staring at the bulkheads.

“There. Problem solved,” he murmured, finally turning to his allies. Everyone was staring at him with matching expressions of shock and disbelief.

“Cin...” Jay said slowly, “was this part of the plan all along?”

He nodded. “With his self-confidence shaken, the Tracker would be more likely to agree to my proposal.”

“But why? Why take him _alone_?”

He sighed. “I'm not going to let him hurt any of you any more. All of you have given so much for me.”

He gestured to Tarron. “You've been beaten within an inch of your life, then shot in the chest. Whatever debts you think you owe me, Tarron, they're square.”

He turned to Venku now. “You thought this would be an interesting way to spend a couple days, Venku. But this has gotten too serious, and you don't owe me anything. I won't let you die for me.”

Venku frowned and nodded, looking slightly guilty for agreeing with him.

Finally, Vhetin turned to Jay. He shook his head. “Jay. You've been my partner for a year now. And even though I've been cold, untruthful, and distant, you've never asked for anything in return. I've never been more thankful to anyone in my life.”

“Cin,” she quietly said, “you don't have to do this.”

“Let me finish,” he said. “You've made me a better person, Jay. I honestly don't deserve a partner as loyal as you. And that's why I can't let this continue.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I don't doubt it,” Vhetin said. “If you weren't, it would be an insult to my own training techniques. But look at what's already happened over the course of the last few days. Like you said just a few minutes ago, you were shot. And that was when we had control of the situation. What would happen if the Tracker managed to ambush us and we _didn't_ have control?”

“Cin-”

“You have too much to lose,” Vhetin said, gesturing to the three. “All of you. And I won't let you lose it all for me.”

“What about you?” Jay asked, standing and resting her hands on her hips. “You have just as much to lose as we do!”

“Do I?”

“Yes! Think about Brian-”

“Don't,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “Don't even start with that. You and I both know that Brianna doesn't want anything to do with me any more. She was my last tie to my home on Mandalore. Now, what more do I have there besides a small group of friends who would, honestly, be safer without me in their life?”

“What about _me_?” Jay asked. “I'm your _partner_. If you die here, what will happen to me?”

He laughed, though there was little humor in the sound. “I taught you everything you know about hunting, Jay. I have faith in you.”

“Cin,” Jay said, sounding desperate now, “I know you're using your... strict outlook on life to come to a conclusion, but-”

“That's exactly what I'm doing,” Vhetin said. “Use your logic, Jay. The Tracker is out there somewhere, with me in his sights. Even if I miraculously manage to kill him or chase him away, which I've been unable to do for years now, the Empire will just send another. The Imperials have already proven that they have no problem attacking my allies, which puts all of you at risk. Is there any solution that you can see?”

Jay bit her lip. “Well-”

“What was the first thing I taught you about situations that seem hopeless?”

She hesitated, then said, “Find the cause of the problem and eliminate it.”

“And what's the cause of this problem?”

“I-”

“ _Me_ ,” Vhetin said. “I'm the cause of all of this. Once I'm out of the equation, everyone I love, or used to love, is safe.”

There was silence for a long time. Tarron and Venku were staring at the floor, unwilling to meet his helmeted gaze. He knew that they understood his decision and knew he was right. Jay, on the other hand, was more stubborn than that.

 _Well,_ he thought with a small smile, _she is Corellian._

“You told me,” she said slowly, stepping out from behind the table to stand in front of him, “what the Imperials want with you. We both know that if they catch you, they'll use you to kill hundreds of innocent people. That alone should convince you not to do this!”

He laughed again. “Now you're using my kind of logic, Jay. Doing what will create the most right out of a situation, no matter the cost.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I taught you how to think like that. But you taught me how to feel again. You taught me how to fight for what I love. And that's what I'm doing now. The Empire may kill innocents when they capture me, yes. But it won't matter because they won't get at _you_. Or Rame. Or Brianna. I'm willing to let it all burn to protect you, and that's exactly what I'm doing.”

He stepped away from her and strode down the hall toward his private quarters. “I have to get ready. When I give you the word, I want you to take _Void_ and go back to Mandalore. Don't hesitate, and don't return. If you do, you'll just get yourself killed.”

He opened the door to his quarters and stepped inside without so much as a glance back. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, he reached up and pulled his helmet off. He set it on the desk next to him before looking around his dark quarters with a sigh.

 _I hope I'm doing the right thing,_ he thought. _More than that, I hope they listen to me and leave._

He slowly sank to his knees, letting out a long, calming breath. He closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeat. He smelled the faint aromas of coolant fluid as it flowed through the pipes underneath the floor, listened to the creaking and sighing of the ship that no human could hear.

 _Everything that makes me who I am_ , he thought, _the Empire wants to rip out of me and implant in brainwashed soldiers. Can I honestly let that happen to save my friends?_

A few months ago, he might have had a more difficult time with the question. But now all he had to do was picture the faces of Tarron, Jay, or Brianna and he knew the answer. Hell, even Kalyn Farnmir deserved to be spared.

The door opened behind him and a bright rectangle of light flooded his quarters. He turned his head slightly, making sure to keep his face hidden in shadow. He paused for half a heartbeat, then turned his gaze back to the bulkheads in front of him and said, “What do you want, Jay?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Enhanced senses, remember?” he said. “I can smell your perfume. I'm guessing a gift from your boyfriend.”

“You smelled me,” she said skeptically. “From across the room?”

He nodded.

“That's kind of creepy.”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

She slowly walked across his quarters and sat down on the edge of his cot. She leaned back, folding her legs and resting her weight on her arms. He turned his head slightly again.

“What do you need?”

She sighed. “I know I can't talk you out of this. But are you sure about your decision?”

“No,” he replied honestly. “But it's the only solution that I can think of that will keep you and everyone else I know safe.”

“Again, I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” he sighed. “But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my own selfishness got you hurt or killed.”

“I hardly think a sense of self-preservation makes you selfish.”

“Now is not the time to argue about the more intricate details of my personality.”

“Fine,” she said. “Then I'll come right out and say it: _stay_.”

“You know why I can't do that.”

“No, I know why you _won't_ ,” she said.

He chuckled quietly. “She said that to me once. Brianna. She was asking why I couldn't let loose and actually feel something for once.”

He looked at her, his face still hidden in the darkness. “Now I am feeling something. Pride.”

She cocked her head. “Pride?”

He nodded. “I've taught you everything I know. I've prepared you for your career as best I could. And I'm proud of the hunter you've become.”

She smiled a little. “Or proud of your own teaching skills.”

“I'm being serious. I'm proud of you, Jay. And it would be my honor to lay down my life for you.”

“Ditch the honorable warrior _osik_ ,” she said, “and tell me why you're really doing this. Are you still mad about Brianna leaving? Are you doing this to get back at her?”

He shook his head. “I'm not that petty.”

“Then why? I'd like to believe all this _sacrificing myself to save my friends_ stuff, but I know that's not the whole story.”

He hesitated. “I promised you that I wouldn't keep any more secrets from you. So I'll tell you the other half of my reasoning.”

He narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands into loose fists. “For seven years, I've struggled to come to terms with who I am, what I am. When I couldn't manage to remember, I became Cin Vhetin. But the truth continued to elude me, and it's gnawed at me for years now.”

He shrugged. “And now, even if I can't remember it, I at least have a chance to end it. In truth, this scenario gives me at least some closure. If I kill the Tracker, I'll be able to live in peace, at least for a while. And if I die... I guess then my problems are over.”

“I won't pretend to try and know what goes on in your head,” she said, staring at him intently. “If you seriously think this is the right thing to do... well, your judgment has never steered us wrong before.”

She sighed and stood. Slowly, sadly, she walked over to the desk and picked up his helmet. She stared into the expressionless T-visor, turning it to watch the way the dimmed lights in the room glinted off the reflective tinted transparisteel.

“Like you've said,” she said quietly, “the Tracker wants you alive. And if there's anyone who has a chance to take him...”

She turned and held the helmet out to him.

“It's you.”

He stared at the helmet, then stood and gently took it from her. He pulled it over his head once more and his suit sealed with a quiet hiss. He waited in silence as his HUD booted up, then looked at the chrono. He saw with a sinking feeling that it was almost time to leave.

He grabbed his saber pike from where it was leaning against the bulkheads. He clipped it to his jetpack. “I have to go.”

“I'll go with you.”

“Jay-”

“To make sure the Tracker didn't set up any traps for you,” she continued forcefully. “Tarron and Venku will probably want to come along as well. We'll secure the spaceport, then you and I can head to the hangar.”

“I...” he trailed off, then sighed. “All right. Thank you.”

“Hey,” she said, smiling sadly, “What are friends for?”

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin took a few minutes to gather together the gear he would need for the coming duel with the Tracker. He wasn't taking any chances, so he brought along everything he could carry.

He stepped into _Void's_ cramped weapon room. It was one of the smallest rooms on the ship, but it housed multiple weapon lockers and ammunition baskets stocked with every weapon he owned. Stepping toward the wall, he pulled open one of the lockers and grabbed everything he could: lightsabers, whipcord line, wrist rockets, the flamethrower attachment for his gauntlet, and his favored MandalMotors-issue pistols. He also pulled off his jetpack and hooked a new rocket into its housing, just to be sure the one he had wouldn't misfire. He refueled his pack while he was there and grabbed extra ammunition for his twin pistols.

He turned to a basket behind him and grabbed three flashbang grenades, clipping them to his belt. He hesitated, then grabbed two thermal detonators as well. Given all that had happened with the Tracker, he thought he would need the extra firepower.

He also grabbed extra blaster-resistant armor padding that he tucked into the space between his chest plates and the fabric of his flak vest. It would restrict his movement slightly, but it would also provide him with even more protection than usual.

He scowled as he reached behind his helmet and pulled out the HUD datachip stored there. He set it aside and replaced it with the tactical combat upgrade he'd purchased several months ago. Going into battle, he doubted he'd need the normal HUD systems that told him the chemical makeup of the air, the registration of nearby speeders, or the phantom heat signatures from hundreds of footsteps of past travelers. The new holographic readout in his helmet lit up a bright, angry scarlet, as opposed to the original amber color he favored, when he plugged the chip into its socket on the back of his helmet

This new HUD would seek out weak points on an enemy target's body, automatically calibrate and aim some of his secondary weapons, and provide him with optimal situational awareness in the heat of battle. Needless to say, it was something he thought he would need.

 _One last fight,_ he thought as he finished arming up. _Then this is all over. At least until the Empire sends some other homicidal maniac._

He was determined, even curious, to see who the Imps would send after him next.

~~~~~~~~

The Tracker strode into the emergency fallback base he had set up during his second month's stay on Mon Calamari. It was a run down shack hidden away in the refugee sector, set up in case his apartment was compromised.

He had decided that the flaming wreck that used to be his apartment before Vhetin had detonated the tricardium explosives was _definitely_ compromised.

He didn't have much time. Vhetin had said to be ready for their fight in an hour, and the Tracker was determined to be there early.

He pulled open the door of the shack and stepped inside, making sure no one saw him enter. The last thing he needed was for someone to spot him and bring the information to Vhetin so that bucket-head could ambush him.

As soon as he stepped inside, bright fluorescent illuminators lit up the small room with blue-white light, giving him a clear view of all his equipment. As the door slid shut behind him, he pulled off his long jacket and tossed it casually aside.

He stepped up to a weapons locker and opened it, returning his pistols, his daggers, and the rest of his varied arsenal to their designated places. He wouldn't need them. In fact, he would only need a single weapon for the coming fight.

He pulled the weapon from its special hooks within the locker and set it on a nearby table. Once done, he turned and typed an encrypted key code into a panel next to another locker.

The metallic cover of the locker slid open to reveal a suit of angular black battle armor inside. He stared at it, then reached up and pulled off his dull metal facemask and let it fall to the floor beside him. It hit the ground with a dull _thud_ , kicking up a tiny cloud of dust with its impact.

He stepped forward and pulled the black helmet from the locker. He stared into the face plate, then set it aside and moved to pull the rest of the armor off its hooks, pulling it on over the rigid flak vest he usually wore beneath his trench coat.

By day's end, Vhetin's cowardly flight across the galaxy would be over. That bucket-head bounty hunter would fall, the Tracker would take his prey to Vader, and finally be reassigned to an easier target.

The Tracker wasn't much for hopeful expectation. It was his belief that everything that could go wrong in a given situation eventually would, and it was his duty to remain cautious to prevent that eventuality. But now, he felt nothing but elation at the thought of his mission coming to completion.

He hooked his comm set into his ear while he worked and dialed out a comm code he rarely used.

“This is Alpha-Bantha-Thirty-Eight,” he said when someone silently picked up the other end of the comm. “Mission is a go. One hour.”

“One hour,” the voice on the other end echoed. “Yes sir. Long live the Emperor.”

“Long live the Emperor,” he repeated and shut down the comm before dialing out another code. He had several more calls to make before he could truly say he was ready.


	15. Partners Parted

**Gredon City Spaceport**

It seemed like the blink of an eye before Vhetin was standing before the door to Bay Thirty-One. It almost seemed like a great weight had descended on his shoulders. He stared at the scuffed durasteel surface of the hangar bay door, feeling no particular urge to hit the opening key.

“Well,” Jay said, unsuccessfully attempting to sound casual, “here we are.”

She was standing next to him, also staring intently at the door. She folded her arms and said, “Tarron and Venku just reported in. If the Tracker set up a trap for you, they can't find it.”

He nodded, having heard the transmission as well. She was echoing what he already knew, most likely because she was just as nervous as he was.

He didn't want to go through that door. He wanted to leave with Jay and Venku and Tarron. He wanted to go back to his home on Mandalore, back to his friends and those who had become close enough to be family. He wanted to patch things up with Brianna, treat her the way she deserved, and go back to those bright, happy days when they had first met.

But his sense of duty wouldn't allow him to do any of that. His sense of duty told him that what he wanted to do was run, but what he _needed_ to do was stand and fight. Yes, it was a lose-lose situation. Winning this fight would only delay the Empire, while losing would result in his imprisonment and eventual death. But that powerful part of his mind compelled him to stay anyway.

Jay glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and slowly said, “And... you're sure you don't want me to back you up?”

“I'm sure,” he said, surprised by the undercurrent of steely determination he heard in his voice. “As soon as I leave, I want you to get Tarron and Venku, get to _Void_ , and leave.”

“But-”

“Do you understand?”

“But what if-”

“ _Do you understand_?” he pressed. “I want you to get back to Mandalore no matter what.”

She hesitated, then her face fell and she nodded. “All right,” she finally said.

He turned to the door and let out a long breath, preparing to hit the opening stud. He paused, however, when she suddenly spoke again.

“I won't stop looking for you,” she said. She was staring at him earnestly. “If the Tracker manages to... you know. I won't stop looking until I find you again.”

He met her gaze, then smiled. “I wouldn't expect anything less, Jay.”

She bit her lip, then unexpectedly threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. He was surprised for just a moment, then hugged her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything you've done for me this year. You're the best partner I could ever have, secrets and all. This last year working with you has been one of the best years of my life.”

“I could say the same,” he said, pulling back from her. “Do me a favor, Jay?”

“Name it,” she said, her eyes beginning to water with tears she was obviously trying to hold back. “Anything.”

“Go out there and kick this galaxy's ass, all right? Head out into the Empire and show this corrupt galaxy that there is such a thing as an honorable bounty hunter.”

She nodded, smiling through her tears. “I'll give it my best.”

“Give my best to your boyfriend when you get back to Mandalore,” he said, turning back to the door. “And tell him to treat you with the respect I never showed Brianna.”

He hesitated, then said, “And... and when you get back to Mandalore... tell Brianna... tell her...”

His next words were lost in the sounds of the spaceport. Jay obviously managed to understand his request, however, because she nodded somberly.

“I'll tell her,” she said. “I promise.”

He nodded as well, feeling at least some of the weight lift from his shoulders. He straightened, booting up his new tactical combat HUD.

Jay looked between him and the door separating him from the fight of his life, then said, “I'll get Tarron and Venku. We'll be gone in a few minutes.”

He didn't move as she walked away, heading toward the crowd of other spaceport-goers. Before she could disappear into the throng, however, he turned and called, “Jay!”

She paused, looking back to him.

He stared at his partner, the one person he trusted above all others, and inclined his helmeted head to her.

“ _Ret'urcye mhi, ner vod_.”

She met his helmeted gaze, holding it for a moment, then bowed her own head. “ _Ret'urcye mhi, ner vod_.”

Then she turned and was lost in the crowd. He stared at the spot where she disappeared, then let out a long breath, turned, and hit the opening stud to the door.

The durasteel  blast door hissed open and he stepped inside. His tactical HUD picked out all the important combat-related details of the area inside. It was a spacious, under-equipped hangar bay with a large exit portal that overlooked the ocean. There was a tangle of pipes and coolant hoses stretching along one wall. His TacHUD systems told him that destroying those pipes would cause a cataclysmic rupture of the spaceport's ventilation system. He would have to be cautious of that.

Among the more recent additions to the area was a slate-gray Imperial shuttle, its triangular wings folded up into flight position. Standing several meters from the ship, staring out over the seascape with hands hooked behind his back, was a lone figure dressed in black battle armor.

“Tracker,” Vhetin called, striding forward. All his previous anxiousness and reluctance had vanished now, replaced with the calm focus that fell on him during combat situations. “You've changed your gear since I last saw you.”

“I thought it would come in handy,” the Tracker replied, not turning to him. As Vhetin drew closer, he saw that his opponent was wearing black plastoid armor similar in build to a stormtrooper's suit, with a compound utility belt and a black belt-skirt. The _kama_ was kicked about the Tracker's legs by the lazy tropical breeze that wafted through the hangar. He wasn't wearing his typical gray facemask, but had instead left his face bare. He had some kind of heavy helmet tucked under his arm.

As Vhetin approached, the Tracker tipped his head slightly, but didn't turn fully. “You came alone?”

“I'm a man of my word,” Vhetin said. “You should know that by now.”

“Well,” the Tracker said with a shrug, “not a _man_. More like a freak of your word.”

He sighed, looking out over the ocean of Mon Calamari. “I've looked forward to this moment for over a year, did you know that? It was so much more fulfilling to hunt down scumbag traitors and terrorists who really don't have a mind of their own. You, by comparison, have been a pain in the ass since day one.”

“Then let's end this,” Vhetin said. He drew his saber pike from his jetpack and activated the glowing blue blade. He held it up with a two-bladed grip, narrowing his eyes. His TacHUD zoomed in on the back of the Tracker's head, picking out all the most vulnerable parts of his armor.

“There's just one thing you should know,” the Tracker said, “before we begin.”

He slowly turned fully and Vhetin got the first good look at his enemy's face in many years. Like he remembered, the Tracker had dark skin and short black hair that was offset by his almost unnaturally pale blue eyes. He had a livid scar stretching down the left side of his face, curling under his left eye before swooping down his cheek and beneath the neck guard of his armor.

He took a step forward, clenching his hands into fists. “Like I said, I've been waiting for this for over a year. Do you really believe that I would let the outcome of my mission rest on the outcome of a petty fistfight with you?”

Vhetin's TacHUD blared an incoming contact warning as the shuttle's exit ramp slid open, hitting the hangar bay floor with a heavy _thud_. Vhetin glanced between the Tracker and the shuttle, then took a cautious step back as his HUD's audio receptors picked up the sound of multiple footsteps on the shuttle's exit ramp.

Dressed in bright red plastoid armor, their faces covered by smooth-faced helmets with a simple horizontal-stripe visors, four elite Imperial Guards marched down the shuttle's ramp, their own saber-pikes held in front of them.

The Tracker threw his head back and laughed as the Guards flanked him, two on each side. He raised a hand and one of the soldiers tossed him a pike of his own. He caught it with an easy grace that only came with years of practice with the weapon.

“You see,” the Tracker said, “unlike you, I am not a man of my word.”

He pulled the helmet he held over his head. It was a smooth-faced helmet like the masks of the other Red Guards. This one, however, was painted jet black and as the Tracker secured it over his head the visor lit up a glowing red.

“And unlike you,” he continued, his voice sounding gravelly and inhuman through his helmet's vocoder, “I did _not_ come alone.”

He thumbed the activation stud on his pike and a bright scarlet lightsaber blade sprang from the emitter with an all-too-familiar _snap-hiss_. Vhetin took another step back as the four Red Guards ignited their own weapons.

The Tracker let out a long, relieved breath. “Ah, it's so _invigorating_ , isn't it? Knowing that the job is almost over. I'm sure you know the feeling, being a bounty hunter.”

The Tracker swung his saber pike down and aimed it at Vhetin's chest. The Red Guards at his side mirrored the motion. “And once the other troops I sent through the spaceport deal with your friends, I'll be free to cart your armored ass back to Vader. He and those Whiteclaw scientists have been just _dying_ to see you again.”

Vhetin cursed, still backing up, then triggered his comm and dialed out Jay's number.

She must have seen the calling number, because she picked up already talking.

“Cin?” she said, sounding relieved. “Thank the Force. Are you all right? Did you win already? We're all still in the spaceport, so do you need us to come pick you up?”

“Jay,” he cut in. “Do _not_ come back here under _any circumstances_. This whole thing was a trap.”

“What?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“The Tracker has soldiers in the spaceport. They're waiting for you.”

“W-what do you want us to do?” she asked.

“ _Run_!” he shouted, then the Red Guards charged.


	16. The Last Gasp

Jay sprinted down the hall as Vhetin's transmission cut out into static. She shoved other travelers out of the way and dialed out Venku's helmet comm.

“I'm here,” he replied. “What's wrong?”

“Vhetin is pinned down in Bay Thirty-One,” she said, breaking through the crowd and dashing down a branching hallway. She tried to appear as calm as possible, looking like just another spacer late for a connecting flight. “He says this whole thing is a trap. There are soldiers scattered all over this spaceport waiting to arrest us.”

He cursed, then said, “I'm in the food court. How close are you? We can link up.”

“I'm on my way,” she said.

An explosion of blaster fire suddenly cut over Venku's transmission and he let out a shout of surprise. “Holy _osik_!”

“What's wrong?”

“Those soldiers made their first move!” he said. There was the sound of something heavy being shoved over. “These _di'kut'e_ just came out of nowhere!”

“I'll be there in five.”

There was more blaster fire. “Make it three.”

She agreed and doubled her pace, racing through an area designated for speeder rentals. She swerved around a large display of speeders, making her way as quickly as possible through the crowd.

“Tarron,” she said over comms. “This port is about to become hostile territory. Where are you?”

“Already onboard _Void_ ,” the Journeyman Protector. “I figured you'd want the ship ready for a quick getaway.”

“Stay there,” she said. “Venku's trapped in the food court. I'm going to get him, then we'll regroup at the ship.”

“Hurry up,” Tarron said. A note of worry had crept into his voice. “It looks like a squad of stormtroopers are poking around.”

“I'm moving as fast as I can,” she snapped, sprinting around a large group of Mon Calamari and Quarren arguing over the price of a rental bike. “Just keep them at bay for now.”

She ran out into the narrow halls that surrounded the main spaceport complex. She turned down the hall, then came to a skidding halt as she saw three men, dressed in inconspicuous, plain clothes blocking her path. If they were anyone else, she would have just elbowed her way through them. But these men were hefting military-issue blaster carbines in their arms.

She tried to duck back around the corner, but one of them spotted her and raised the carbine. “There she is, just like he said!”

She drew her pistol as multicolored blaster bolts stitched the wall near her head. Chips of heated duracrete skittered across the floor and civilians screamed and ran for cover. Nearby spaceport security guards drew stun pikes, but the men with the carbines quickly felled them with blaster fire.

“Venku!” she shouted over the tumult, “I'm going to be a little late!”

“I'm holding my own,” he replied, “for now. Be careful.”

She pulled a stun grenade from beneath her jacket. She depressed the activation button and lobbed the flashbang out into the hallway. She heard the men shouting and cursing as they scrambled away, but it was already too late. With a colossal roar, the hallway erupted into a blaze of white light. She grimaced as a roaring explosion blasted from the hallway, loud enough to leave her ears ringing, even from several meters away.

As soon as the explosion faded she threw herself around the corner and sprinted past the groaning, writhing thugs that were sprawled on the hallway floor. She felt a slight twinge of guilt at seeing other civilians rolling on the ground as well, but powered through them and made her way toward the food court. She spotted several other armed thugs scattered through the crowd but by the time they spotted her she was already long gone.

She entered the spaceport at a sprint, knocking aside a couple of Wookiees – no mean feat for a human – and frantically searched for Venku's multicolored armor. He had said that he was under attack, so she just listened for screams or blaster fire.

There were none. Just a calm and functioning food court. She took a cautious step inside, holstering her pistol to avoid drawing attention. She had taken three steps inside when someone grabbed her arm. She screamed slightly and moved to draw her pistol.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a familiar voice said. “Easy there, warrior babe. It's just me.”

She scowled at Venku and moved her hand away from her weapon. “That's a good way to get yourself killed, especially where bounty hunters are concerned.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“You said you were under attack. I heard blaster bolts over the comm transmission.”

“I was,” he said, “but not out here in the open. They ambushed me in one of the back hallways. I managed to take 'em out quietly, though. I thought it would make our escape easier if the spaceport's patrons weren't rushing around in a panic.”

She nodded, letting out a long, relieved breath. “Okay... let's get out of here before anyone else decides to show up and start shooting.”

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin ducked and slashed with his saber, knocking away one of the Red Guards. He was caught in the chest by the blunt end of a Guard's pike, knocked off his feet by the force of the blow.

He pulled himself into a backwards somersault and came to his feet swinging his saber. He was just in time to knock away another slash to his neck, then lunged forward and stabbed a Guard through the bicep. The man screamed and dropped his saber out of reflex. Vhetin grabbed the weapon and brought both pikes up, stabbing forward and plunging both red and blue into the red-armored man's chest.

He shoved the Guard away with the red-bladed pike, then spun his own weapon in arcs around his body, dropping into a Teräs Käsi prep stance, feet spread with his knees bent and his pike aimed with a wide two-handed grip at his enemies.

The three remaining Red Guards fanned out, moving as if they were all one person. Together, their pikes descended, three red energy blades aiming directly at his armored chest.

“One down!” the Tracker called, standing and watching without actually entering the fight, “Four to go.”

The Guards moved forward slowly, as if daring Vhetin to make the first move. He wasn't about to disappoint them.

He silently jumped forward, slashing and parrying as quickly as he could. He knew that Red Guards were trained, brainwashed some would say, to be the toughest fighters in all the Empire. They were fanatically loyal to the Emperor, and had the combat skills to back up their deluded loyalties. He was having a hard time keeping up with three of them at once, even with his superhuman abilities.

He could feel adrenaline coursing through his system, quickening his reaction time until the Guards seemed to be moving just a fraction of a second slower than what seemed right. It didn't give him much of an advantage, but allowed him to at least keep his head on his shoulders while his opponents stabbed and slashed at him with their lightsabers.

He raised his saber over his head, blocking three separate lightsaber blades at once. He grimaced as sparks fell down around his head and shoulders, skittering across the floor. He put all his considerable strength into shoving them away, staggering slightly as the weight on his shoulders was suddenly lifted. He stood to his full height again and shook his head.

“Is this it, Tracker?” he asked. “I've run across more challenging fights during Battle Circle competitions, and you're not even allowed to kill people during those.”

The Tracker shrugged and said, “Whatever you need to get yourself going, pal.”

He gestured to the Red Guards and said, “Let him have it, I guess.”

The Guards bowed their heads, then turned back to Vhetin, once again gripping their sabers. One of them leaped forward with a downward slash to Vhetin's head, which he easily blocked.

The two other Guards fanned out as Vhetin exchanged furious blows with his opponent, slashing with the saber and hammering away with the blunt end of his pike. The Red Guard was equally skilled, whirling his own saber around his red-armored body with a skill and deadly grace that seemed more fitting for an Echani swordmaster. Vhetin, on the other hand, fell deep into his own combat form, lashing out with vicious, ruthless attacks while his TacHUD evaluated a weak point in his opponent's defenses.

It didn't find any.

Vhetin's face pulled down in a furious scowl. Dropping any grace or form, he simply hammered the Guard's pike out of the way before stepping forward and planting his boot in the Guard's faceplate. The man grunted and staggered back. Vhetin took advantage of his opponent's momentary distraction. He followed the man forward and swiped at his back, his blade carving a bright orange slash across the man's back plate and into his flesh. The Guard let out a scream that warbled out over his vocoder and fell to his hands and knees. Vhetin scowled deeper and dragged his saber across the back of the man's legs, preventing him from standing again. The Guard screamed louder and frantically tried to crawl away.

Vhetin followed, watching the Guard with furious calm. The other two Red Guards and the Tracker did nothing to try and stop him.

“Normally,” Vhetin said, looking up at the Tracker as he followed the wounded Guard's slow progress across the hangar bay, “I know when an opponent is beaten. I learned a long time ago when to show mercy in a combat situation.  I learned to avoid wasting too much time and energy on ruthlessness.”

He looked down at the Red Guard crawling across the floor, then raised his saber and plunged the blade down into the center of the soldier's back. The Guard let out a gurgling scream, then went limp.

Vhetin looked up at the Tracker.

“That?” he said, yanking the blade out. “That, I learned from you.”

The Tracker laughed. “Oh, I like that. I like that a lot. But now I'm getting bored, so...”

Vhetin was suddenly blasted off his feet by an unbelievably powerful shockwave that hit him in the back. He cried out in pain as he crashed forward into the ground. His saber pike bounced away out of reach.

He rolled over just in time to see a storm of purple-white lightning envelop his body. In an instant, pure,  unbelievable agony washed through every molecule of his body. He writhed on the ground, screaming inside his helmet, clenching his fists in pain as his vision blacked out.

After a few moments that seemed like an eternity the pain slowly ebbed. Vhetin rolled over onto his stomach, weakly crawling toward his fallen saber pike. He saw smoke wafting up lazily from his scorched flight suit. His TacHUD sputtered and sporadically washed out to static from the sudden influx of energy.

“Yeah,” the Tracker laughed as Vhetin grabbed his saber pike and slowly struggled to his feet. “I bet you never believed the rumor that Red Guards have mild Force abilities.”

“I'll be honest,” Vhetin gasped, propping himself up on the shaft of his pike, “I really didn't.”

The two remaining Guards once again aimed their pikes at his chest. Vhetin sighed and activated his own weapon again and thought, _Fierfek I hate Imperials_.

Then he leaped forward again. He knocked a Guard's saber out of the way, then raised his right arm and enveloped the second in a scorching cloud of flame from his gauntlet flamethrower. With the one Guard staggering away, flames crawling over his armored body, Vhetin was free to focus his attention on the other.

The Guard tossed a quick burst of Force Lightning his way, which he easily caught on the blade of his pike. The Guard darted forward and managed to score a quick slash down Vhetin's arm. Vhetin backpedaled out of the saber's reach, but ran right into the other Guard, who had quickly shaken off the last of the flames. The second Guard landed a blow to the back of Vhetin's unarmored thigh. He cried out as his leg gave way and he fell to his hands and knees. The other Guard caught him in the torso as he fell, slicing a long gash along his ribcage. He clapped a hand to the burn, his pike still lit in the other hand.

The two Guards towered over him, red saber pikes descending. Vhetin stared at the dirty, scuffed ground, eyes watering. His breath came in short, pained gasps and pain pulsed through his arm and leg.

“What, is that it?” the Tracker taunted. “I expected more from Cin Vhetin, the legendary swordsman. Where are your superhuman senses now?”

Vhetin looked up at the Tracker, his eyes narrowing. He scowled, then struggled to his feet again. One of the Guards put his saber pike in front of Vhetin's throat and growled, “Stay down if you know what's good for you.”

Vhetin passed his saber to his right hand and pointed his left at the Guard's chest, then triggered the wrist-mounted rocket at point blank range. The Guard's scream was lost in the sudden explosion that blasted Vhetin off his feet again and sent him sliding across the floor.

The flame also engulfed the tangle of pipes that were set up along the wall. One of the hoses popped, spewing coolant fluid as it danced across the floor. The pressure inside the pipes began to grow. One of the pipes began to glow red-hot before something from the floor below exploded with enough force to shake the entire hangar bay.

 _That didn't sound good_ , he thought with a grimace.

He fought to rise to his feet and looked up in time to see the scorched Red Guard hurtling through the air, propelled by the force of the rocket detonation. The soldier tumbled head-over-heels in mid-air for a few moments before disappearing over the edge of the hangar bay exit portal. A quiet splash was heard a few moments later.

Vhetin didn't waste a moment in turning, grabbing the last remaining guard by the facemask and driving his saber pike's blade into his chest. The man sputtered and fell to the ground in a clatter of plastoid armor plating.

The ground quaked violently beneath his feet as he stood. He ignored it. Maybe, if he was lucky, the coolant system on the floor below would go up in flames. And an explosion of the system would send this entire  section of the spaceport spilling into the ocean. Even the Tracker wouldn't be able to survive that.

Instead, Vhetin turned to the Tracker and spread his arms. His arm, chest, and leg throbbed and his muscles ached, but he was more than ready to continue the fight for as long as he was able.

“Are you impressed yet?” he asked.

The Tracker shrugged and gestured with his own activated saber pike. At his command, three maintenance doors slid open and a multitude of stormtroopers jogged through, weapons raised.

The Tracker himself hopped down from his perch on the raised boundary wall that ran along the edge of the hangar bay's exit portal. He hefted his saber pike in a two-handed grip as the stormtroopers – at least thirty of them – fanned out in a rough circle around Vhetin.

“Here's your chance,” the Tracker said, stepping forward and leveling his saber at Vhetin's chest. “Go ahead: impress me.”

~~~~~~~~

Jay and Venku sprinted through the spaceport halls and were almost to _Void_ 's hangar bay when a distant explosion shook the ground at their feet. They both staggered to a halt as a deep rumble made its way through the spaceport.

“What was that?” Venku said, looking around.

Jay shook her head. “Obviously the results of Vhetin's fight with the Tracker. We should step up the pace and get out of here before things get even worse.”

They took off, even faster than before. They passed by two other groups of armed thugs, but sprinted by before the men could recognize them. Another explosion thundered through the spaceport, then another a few moments later.

Venku let out a whistle. “Whatever Vhetin and the Tracker are doing, it seems to be causing some damage.”

“It almost sounds like the explosions are traveling through the coolant system,” Jay said as they ran. “If the coolant system goes critical, this entire spaceport could be destroyed.”

She slowed her pace and looked over her shoulder. “And if that happens and Vhetin is still in the spaceport...”

“Don't,” Venku said, grabbing her arm. “He stayed behind to keep you out of danger. Don't diminish his sacrifice by getting yourself killed.”

She bit her lip, then nodded and slowly turned to keep running toward their escape. It was only then that she noticed the four men jogging toward them, blaster rifles in their arms.

“Damn it,” she muttered, drawing her pistol. “This is going to slow us down.”

“Maybe not,” Venku said. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then stepped forward and spread his arms in welcome. He strode right for the four armed thugs.

“Gentlemen,” he said, a crooked grin on his face. “What can we help you guys with?”

They began to wordlessly turn their weapons on him, but he suddenly erupted into a blur of motion. He grabbed the first man's gun, twisted, and yanked it from the man's grasp. Instead of firing, however, he held the blaster by the barrel and whipped it across the man's face. Before the others could move to help their now-unconscious comrade, Venku slammed the butt of the weapon into another's stomach. He then dropped the blaster, reached out, and grabbed the remaining two by the throat before slamming their heads together.

Within the span of thirty seconds, all four were lying unconscious on the ground. Jay stared at her friend with a single eyebrow raised, impressed. He flashed her a grin and said, “What? Just because I'm a simple political activist doesn't mean I don't know how to defend myself. I am Mandalorian after all.”

“Let's just go,” she said, breaking into a  jog again. “We've got maybe ten minutes tops to get out of here.”

It was another tense six minutes before they reached the door to _Void_ 's hangar platform. The explosions had caused normal spaceport patrons to flee, screaming, in panic. They had to fight their way through throngs of terrified beings running for the nearest exits, spaceport security personnel shouting orders over vocal enhancers, and armed compatriots of the Tracker. It was slow going for quite a while. Jay was never more relieved to see such a simple durasteel door in her life.

“Let's go,” Venku said, “before this place gets any crazier.”

As if on cue, another explosive quake shook the spaceport. Unless Jay was very much mistaken, they were getting more and more frequent – and powerful – as time went on.

Venku stepped up to the door and hit the opening stud. Nothing happened.

He frowned, then hit it again. He was met with the same result. He frowned, then pulled his helmet over his head and quickly scanned the keypad controls. As soon as he had, he slammed his fist against the durasteel surface and shouted, “Damn it!”

“What? What's wrong?”

He shook his head and clipped his helmet back to his belt. “I don't believe it. Someone triggered the spaceport's security lockdown sequence. All the doors are sealed tight.”

“Three guesses who's responsible,” Jay said with a furious sigh.

“The Tracker probably sealed the doors to keep us trapped,” Venku said. “That whole deal about agreeing to come alone was a load of _osik_.”

“He's an Imperial assassin,” Jay said, turning back to the hall. “What would you...”

She trailed off as her gaze fell on a tangle of pipes and hoses that were set into the wall. One of them was shaking violently in its housing. She took a step back and murmured, “Venku...”

He began tapping furiously into the keypad. “Uncle Jaing has been teaching me a couple slicer tricks. Maybe I can hack the security override.”

“Venku,” she said, a little louder. The pipe was beginning to bulge dangerously, releasing a tortured groan. As she watched, it began to glow a dull orange. Restraint bolts began to pop out of their housing. There was a loud rushing sound, then a seam split in the pipe's surface.

“Venku!” she shouted, turning away as the pipe let out a screech, then exploded. Her friend turned to see what was wrong, then everything began to happen very fast.

Venku grabbed her shoulder and shoved her behind him. She staggered back against the sealed durasteel door, thinking for one dazed moment that he meant to block the force of the explosion with his _beskar_ battle armor.

Time seemed to move in slow motion while she watched Venku grimace against the heat of the explosion that raced toward him, then throw up his arms in an X in front of him. The roaring flames enveloped him, then roared toward Jay. She closed her eyes and tensed in preparation of the ensuing pain.

It didn't come. She slowly opened her eyes, then gasped as she saw the explosion roaring _around_ her, held back by what looked like a shimmering, invisible wall. The fire washed around her on either side and over her head, as if there was some kind of force field holding it back.

She looked at Venku, who was kneeling in front of her, arms still held out in front of himself. The explosion seemed to be parting around him like water and his face was pulled down in a furious grimace of effort.

After a few torturous moments, the explosion began to fade. When it had shrank to a few flickering tendrils of fire whipping out of the pipe, Venku let his arms drop with an exhausted sigh. He slumped to his hands and knees, breathing hard, sweat beading his forehead.

Jay's legs almost gave out from relief. She stared at her friend and gasped, “What... what the hell did you...”

Then it all fell into place. She had thought so herself, that the flames had parted around them as if held back by a _force_ field.

Her eyes slowly widened and she murmured, “Son of a bitch.”

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin's pain seemed to disappear as the air lit up with blaster bolts. He ducked and dodged, breaking into a sprint as he charged the circle of stormtroopers. He threw his shoulder into one, knocking the soldier off his feet, then spun and swung his saber. The blue blade of his weapon took off two trooper's heads at the shoulders and their bodies crumpled silently to the ground.

Vhetin pivoted and stabbed forward, catching another in the chest. His reflexes were working at peak efficiency and he was easily able to dodge a sudden flash of scarlet as the Tracker stepped forward and slashed with his own saber. Vhetin ducked another attack, then caught the blade with the _beskar_ shaft of his weapon.

“Very impressive,” the Tracker grunted, pushing against the saber lock. The troopers had stopped their fire momentarily, afraid of hitting the Tracker instead of Vhetin. “Vader apparently thought so, too. After you defected, he had the rest of us ICF guys train with these damn saber pikes until we were kriffing experts.”

Vhetin silently shoved the Tracker away, then ducked as the storm of blaster fire kicked up again. He somersaulted to avoid fire and came to his feet fighting. The Tracker had hurled himself at him again, and he quickly fended off the assassin's brutal attacks. The Tracker seemed to favor the most violent of lightsaber forms, Juyo. Like Vhetin, the Tracker didn't have the superhuman reflexes of a Jedi or Sith, so he had to make do with clumsy recreations of the combat form's deadly motions.

It didn't make him any less dangerous. What the Tracker lacked in speed and agility, he made up in sheer power. He hammered away at Vhetin's saber pike, whirling his weapon over his head or behind his back before slashing and stabbing at Vhetin with enough force to send him staggering away. Vhetin cursed and responded with his own deadly mix of Makashi and Djem So, two of the most lethal forms. He spun and slashed, his blade casting blueish highlights across the Tracker's reflective black armor. Their blades slammed together again and again, sending sparks showering across the floor. The light between them flashed like cantina strobe lights as the blades met again and again, faster and faster, until Vhetin could barely see the weapons.

He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. It had been a long time since Vhetin had gone saber-to-saber against a worthy opponent, and his strength was quickly faltering under the Tracker's ruthlessly powerful attacks. Every blow made his arms shake painfully and he had to use every ounce of his strength just to keep from being cut in two. As skilled as he was with melee weapons, the Tracker's violence had him pushed firmly onto the defensive.

He ducked a slash to his head and drove his fist into the Tracker's stomach, sending the assassin staggering back. He straightened and pressed his advantage, leaping forward with a shout and stabbing at the Tracker's chest. The Tracker's hand flashed out and caught Vhetin's pike by the emitter. He wrenched it to the side, sending Vhetin sprawling. Vhetin turned it into a somersault that took him away from the Tracker and back toward the assembled stormtroopers. The white-armored troopers were completely unprepared to be thrown back into the fray so quickly.

He slashed up as he rose, carving a trooper's chest plate in two. The man screamed and fell back, joined by two of his companions before he had hit the ground.

There was no form or grace to Vhetin's attacks now. He just mowed his way through the stormtroopers as fast and as efficiently as he could. His strength was quickly waning, the pain of his wounds catching up to him once more. With so many troopers and the Tracker still attacking him, he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep fighting.

 _I just hope Jay got out of here okay_ , he thought as he spun and slammed the Tracker's saber away. He kicked the man in the head, sending him staggering away. He forcibly banished thoughts of his partner from his mind and poured all his focus into hacking his way through the troopers. The blue flash of his saber filled his vision and the subsequent screams of stormtroopers drowned out his hearing. The Tracker tried to leap at him again but Vhetin knocked him away with another well-placed kick to the faceplate.

He rolled his saber pike between his hands, blocking several blaster shots while the rest slammed harmlessly into his armor. The shots knocked the breath out of him, but he willed himself to keep fighting. Hesitation was not a luxury he could afford now.

He drove the blunt end of his pike into a trooper's faceplate, shattering the eye-shaped viewports of the man's helmet, then kicked him in the throat and sent him sprawling. He turned and caught three bolts in the stomach plate before he slashed another trooper's hands off at the wrist. The man's blaster – and his hands – fell to the ground and Vhetin simply shoved the screaming soldier away, moving on to the others that were waiting behind him.

His movements seemed to blend together, coming to him with a fluid ease he found unsettling. He became an unstoppable whirlwind of death, mowing down anyone who dared stand in his way. Troopers fell in droves, until he found himself stumbling over piles of white-armored bodies.

“Give it up, Vhetin!” he heard the Tracker shouting. His voice echoed, as if reaching him from far away. The black-armored assassin suddenly leaped from the ranks of stormtroopers, spinning and scoring a long, thin slash down Vhetin's chest plates. “If you manage to kill these, I can just send more! You know this!”

Vhetin leaped into the air and planted both boots in the Tracker's chest. The blow knocked the assassin away and Vhetin saw his red-bladed saber pike bounce from his grasp. He crashed to the floor as well, but quickly scrambled to his feet before any of his enemies could exploit his momentary weakness.

Seeing an opening, he reversed his grip on his pike and threw it like an ancient spear. The weapon stabbed through a trooper's chest and the man staggered, his chest plate bubbling and melting around the energy blade.

Vhetin didn't waste a moment; though his pike was gone, he was far from unarmed. He raised both his arms and loosed a torrent of flame from one gauntlet while firing a wrist-mounted rocket from the other. The flamethrower consumed a group of troopers that were stupid enough to rush at him, while the rocket blasted at least twelve other troopers off their feet and carved a half-meter-deep crater into the floor of the hangar bay. Vhetin then turned and hunched his back, pointing his body toward the Tracker, who stood out in his black armor among the bleached white armor of the stormtroopers. He tapped the readout on his gauntlet and his jetpack rocket roared out of its housing on a huge tail of fire.

The Tracker cursed and rolled out of the way, but the rocket detonated against the chestplate of a stormtrooper standing just behind him. The man vanished in a huge explosion of flame and shrapnel. When the smoke had faded, all that was left of the man was a pile of ash and a pair of bootprints scorched into the surface of the floor.

Vhetin sprinted through the crowd, tossing the last of his grenades with abandon. Flashbangs and frags exploded around him, sending chips of duracrete carved from the floor bouncing against his helmet faceplate. He sprinted up to the trooper he had stabbed with his pike, who was still staggering from the attack, and roughly yanked the weapon from his armored chest. He tossed the soldier aside as soon as he had.

He was just turning back to deal with the rest of the troopers when he felt a fiery hot pain erupt through the small of his back. He staggered, barely able to keep his footing. He slowly turned, fire washing through his torso, to find the Tracker standing behind him, humming lightsaber pike once again in his hands.

Vhetin reached behind his back, pressed his hand to the place that was now shooting waves of pain through his body. He pulled his gloved hand up to his eyes and saw that his glove was stained with blood.

Time seemed to slow. He was hit. Badly. Feeling was slowly leeching from his hands and legs. A spine wound, then. He staggered slightly, his legs shaking unsteadily. He almost fell, and only by using his pike like a third leg did he manage to keep his balance.

The stormtroopers rushed forward, thinking their target defeated. Vhetin stared at them, his head spinning from the pain in his body. Then his face pulled down in a furious scowl. He let out a shout and threw himself into battle again. His motions seemed too slow for him, but he hacked and stabbed at any stormtrooper that was within reach. Two, three, then four more enemies fell at his feet and his blade hummed violently as he whirled it over his head. He brought the weapon down, aiming for the Tracker's head as the assassin appeared through the crowd again. His enemy blocked the blow and responded with a counterattack that sent him staggering.

He had regained his balance and was stepping back toward the Tracker when a blaster bolt hit him in the chest, just above his armpit. His shoulder was jerked back by the blow, leaving him open for another bolt to hit him in the left bicep.

He staggered and slowly, ever so slowly, fell to his knees. His breath was coming in long, gulping gasps and pain seemed to inflame every fiber of his body. His vision wavered and his head spun. The Tracker stepped forward, triumph written across his every movement. He quickly kicked out with his boot and knocked Vhetin's pike from his weakening grip. It bounced away across the floor, the blue blade deactivating with a synthetic hiss.

Mind hazy, Vhetin tried to slide down his helmet's rangefinder to increase his TacHUD's capacities, but found that it had been snapped off at some point during the fight. He tried to trigger his jetpack to carry him up and out of harm's way, but a stray blaster bolt had ruptured the fuel tank and the pack was leaking and useless. He reached for his pistols, but found that they had been ripped from their holsters.

Utilizing the last weapons he had left, he painfully rose to his feet and began attacking his enemies with his fists and feet. He grabbed a trooper by the shoulders and drove his helmet hard against the man's faceplate. They connected with a metallic _crunch_ and the man crumpled. He turned and leaped forward with a Teräs Käsi lunge kick that caught another trooper in the throat. The soldier staggered back into several of his comrades.

Another blaster bolt hit him in the leg, just above his right knee. He stumbled, then fell to his hands and knees. All strength drained from his limbs and it was all he could do to keep himself from collapsing from exhaustion.

The Tracker strode forward and planted a boot in Vhetin's already-wounded side, knocking him over. Vhetin sprawled weakly across the floor, gasping for breath that didn't seem to come to him. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain, but his mind shouted at him to get up and fight.

 _I... I can't_ , he thought, unable to summon enough strength to even move his arm. _I can't fight any longer._

 _You have to!_ another voice shouted at him. He was surprised at it; he had thought that here, at his death, the voice he'd hear was Brianna's. He thought it would be her quiet voice with her smooth, educated Coruscanti accent that he would hear in his last moments. But it wasn't her voice that shouted at him to stand and defy the Tracker and his stormtroopers.

It was Jay's.

 _Get up!_ she shouted at him. _Up! Show this bastard just who he's messing with! You're Cin-kriffing-Vhetin! Get up and show them just what you're made of!_

 _She's right,_ he thought, slowly clenching a fist. Even that simple motion sent waves of pain up his arm. _I don't have the luxury of giving up. If I'm going to die here, I'm going to die fighting._

With a tortured groan that sounded more like a scream of pain, he rose to his feet and put all his effort into a punch to the Tracker's head that he knew would knock the cocky assassin clean off his feet.

The Tracker grabbed his fist before the blow could even come close to his faceplate. Vhetin faltered as his opponent squeezed his fist in a painfully powerful grip. He poured the last reserves of his strength into overpowering this simple struggle of hand against hand.

Then there was a flash of light and the muffled report of a blaster. Then another. And another. Vhetin stiffened, then reeled as he felt the familiar numbing spasms of a stun round run through his body. The stormtroopers behind him kept firing at his unguarded back, again and again, until the electrical outputs of the stun rounds crackled over his arms, legs, and chest.

He heard the crash of his armor plates as he fell heavily to the ground, but couldn't even consider rising again. His entire body was numb, a state more painful that the agony he'd felt only moments before. He stared up at the ceiling, felt the ground shake beneath him from the force of another explosion from the floor below. He was unable to summon the strength to even move his watering eyes.

The Tracker appeared in his field of vision, leaning over him. He slowly reached up and pulled off his black facemask, tossing it carelessly aside. He cocked his head, watching Vhetin with his icy blue eyes.

“Don't look so disappointed,” the assassin said. “You gave it your best. It wasn't enough.”

Then he raised a pistol, aimed it squarely at Vhetin's head, and fired again.

The world went black.


	17. Nu Kyr'adyc

“Son of a bitch,” Jay said, staring at Venku with wide eyes.

He chuckled weakly as he slowly rose to his feet again. His legs wobbled, as if he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. Doing whatever he had done had obviously taken a lot out of him.

“I know,” he murmured. “You're surprised.”

“Dumbstruck would be a better word,” she said, her eyes still as wide as serving platters. “You... you're...”

“Not a Jedi,” he said. “I know that was your first thought. My mother was, though.”

“But you're-”

He stretched, looking as if the motion was extremely painful. “Force-sensitive? Yeah.”

“But...” she shook her head, unable to put her shock into words.

“What else was I going to do?” he said. “Let you get burned to a crisp?”

He stepped past her, still breathing hard, and returned to his work on the door. “For obvious reasons, I haven't told anyone. No one outside my immediate family knows or even suspects.”

She was still staring at him wordlessly as he stretched out his arms and clenched his fists. He gritted his teeth and growled, “All these past months you thought someone in your life was Force-sensitive, and you were right. You just had the wrong Mando in mind.

“Probably should have paid more attention to my secrets instead of Vhetin's,” he muttered as he dragged his fists apart, as if prying the doors open with his bare hands. The sealed doors, their surface now scorched by the explosion, quivered in their tracks before slowly sliding open with high-pitched screeches. Venku let out a grunt of effort, then straightened and cracked his neck.

“There we go,” he said, gesturing for her. “Let's go.”

She shook off at least some of her shock, then sprinted through the doors. _Void_ was waiting for them. There were several dead stormtroopers sprawled about the hangar platform; Tarron had obviously dealt with the Tracker's soldiers who had been snooping around.

“Tarron,” she said as they ran, speaking into her comlink. “Prime the ship's engines. We need to leave _now_.”

“Already on it,” came the reply.

The ship's landing ramp slid down with a groan of hydraulics. Venku immediately jogged up and into the ship, but Jay slowed, then hesitated with one boot on the ramp. She paused for the span of several heartbeats, then looked over her shoulder again. Back at the spaceport.

Cin was back there, fighting for his life. He was probably going to die in there, and here she was, running away like a coward. What was she _thinking_?

It was too similar to what had happened at Malachor, too similar to the day she had lost everything she had loved in life. She had been ordered to leave, to bring back reinforcements, and her obedience had stood in the way of her saving Phantom Squadron. People had _died_ because she had done as she was told.

Was she making the same mistake again?

She had promised herself she would never again let someone give her an order that would lead to the death of a friend. She had been determined to never again feel the awful guilt of knowing that if she had just stayed and fought, her friends would still be alive.

Her decision at Malachor haunted her to this day, and she'd be damned if she was going to let it happen all over again.

“Jay?” Venku said from the top of the landing ramp. “What are you doing? We have to leave!

“I... I can't,” she said, pulling her boot off the ramp and taking a step back toward the port. “I can't leave him.”

“Come on,” he said, quickly running down the ramp and grabbing her arm. “We've been over this. He told you to leave him.”

“He... he needs my help!” she said, ripping her arm from his grasp and taking another step toward the port. “I thought I could, but I can't leave him to die.”

“The Tracker wants him alive,” Venku said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “And if Vhetin doesn't make it out of this, you are the only one who could find him. He doesn't need you now, but he will.”

She shook her head. She felt like her soul was in turmoil. The logical side of her mind told her that Venku was right, that Vhetin would need her to find him later. But her heart told her that she needed to storm back into the spaceport, bash down the door of Bay Thirty-One, and help her partner put a blaster bolt between the Tracker's eyes.

“I... I can't.”

“If you go in there, you'll die. The place is about to explode!”

“I'm willing to take that chance,” she said. “Vhetin needs me. He's the one who gave me everything after BlueSend. I can't just abandon him!”

“And what about the other people who need you?”

“No one needs me but him!” she cried.

Sadness suddenly flashed through Venku's eyes. “How... how can you say that? After all these months... after everything we've been through? Can't you see that I...”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back toward the spaceport again. “What are you trying to say?”

He looked at her helplessly. “Isn't it obvious?”

“Apparently not obvious enough, because-”

He suddenly grabbed by her shoulders and kissed her passionately on the lips. Her eyes widened and she pushed him back. “What the... what are you-”

He kissed her again and she pushed him back again. “What the _hell_ are you _doing?_ _”_

“I'm trying to show you that there are other people who care about you!” he cried. “ _I_ care about you! Too much to see you run back into that damn death-trap of a spaceport!”

She broke free from his grip and turned away from him, raking her hands through her hair. “I-I can't deal with this right now. I'm going back into that spaceport and you can't stop me.”

“Like _haran_ I can't,” he muttered, then grabbed her arms again. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he roughly spun her around and pulled her arms behind her back.

“What the hell-” she began to say, then she felt him pull something from her belt. She heard a series of clicks from behind her and suddenly found she couldn't move her hands. She cursed and shouted, “Did you just _cuff_ me?”

“I'm sorry, Jay,” he said, yanking her back toward the ship. “You'll thank me in time. I hope.”

“Venku!” she shouted as she was dragged, struggling, up the ramp and into the ship. “If you don't let me go this _instant_ , I swear that I will _never_ be your friend again! I won't even _speak_ to you!”

“If that's what it takes,” he grunted, stepping aside as she tried to kick him and headbutt him at the same time. He hauled her aboard the ship, then kicked the button to close the exit ramp. “I'm sorry, Jay, but I care about you too much to see you kill yourself.”

“No!” she shouted as the ramp slowly slid up and closed with a resounding _boom_. “Let me go! He's my partner and I have to help him! Let me go!”

As the ship began to shake and rumble beneath her feet, she began struggling more. Venku ignored her clumsy attacks and shouting, dragging her toward the cockpit. She was still fighting when he keyed open the cockpit door and dragged her inside with the intent to secure her in crash webbing for the jump to hyperspace.

Instead, she was granted a bird's-eye view as part of the spaceport suddenly bloomed a bright, blinding white that left stars dancing in her vision. As her view cleared, she saw a huge fireball consuming the section of the spaceport that housed Bay Thirty-One – and Vhetin.

Her horrified gaze was locked on the huge explosion that tore itself through Bay Thirty-One and the bulk of the spaceport around it.  Huge sections of the port crumbled, then collapsed into the ocean in great geysers of water. No one could have survived destruction like that. No one.

She had failed. Just like at Malachor, she had listened to what others had told her and now people were dead because of it. Her partner and closest friend since she'd come to Mandalore was dead now. And it was _all her fault_!

She watched the destruction of the spaceport for a few socked, silent moments. Then all strength drained from her limbs and she burst into tears. She collapsed against Venku's armored chest, crying harder than she had in a very long time.

“I was s-supposed to help him,” she sobbed as he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair soothingly, much as he had done when they were sneaking away from Wouta's repair shop seemingly a lifetime ago. “I-I promised Rame I would k-keep him _safe_.”

“Vhetin made his choice,” Venku murmured quietly. “He wouldn't have done what he did if he didn't have confidence in your ability to find him again.”

“He's _dead_!” she cried, not believing the words even as they passed from her own lips. “He's dead now, just like S-Sade, and Dewback, and...”

She trailed off, unable to say more. She cried harder, finally tearing her gaze away from what was left of the spaceport to bury her face in Venku's shoulder.

“It's okay,” Venku whispered, holding her tighter. “It'll be okay.”

Tarron was staring at the gigantic plume of fire with wide eyes. He shook his head, turning the ship away from the spaceport and streaking off toward open space. “I... I don't believe it,” he murmured. “I didn't think Cin would actually do it.”

“The Tracker wanted him alive,” Venku said. “He isn't gone forever. We just need to find him.”

He sighed and said, “Just get us the hell out of here, Tarron. Take us home.”

Tarron nodded and _Void_ roared through Mon Calamari's atmosphere, heading for orbit.


	18. Project Whiteclaw

**Keldabe, Mandalore, six hours later**

The walk down _Void_ 's landing ramp was the longest of Jay's life. They had set down only moments before in the Keldabe City Spaceport, and she knew that they had a welcoming party.

It was almost like a cruel mirror of their landing before, after bringing in the bail-jumper on Taris. Rame and Mia were waiting for them, while Brianna was once again absent. Jaing was also standing there, arms folded, a furious scowl on his face.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as she stepped down the ramp, her heart beating painfully loud to her ears. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw Rame, the corner of his lips pulled up in the hint of a smile, waiting for Vhetin and Jay to come striding down the landing ramp as always.

The smile slowly faded as Jay and Venku walked out alone. Tarron had jumped ship soon after leaving Mon Calamari, departing with a silent, somber nod of farewell. Now it was just the two left.

Rame's expression slowly became one of one of concern as Jay approached. He noticed the way Venku refused to meet anyone's gaze, the way Jay was fighting to hold back tears. His smile finally faded completely, and he slowly said, “Where... where's Cin?”

Jay shook her head, swallowing back her despair. “He...” her voice caught. “H-he didn't make it.”

Rame's expression turned to one of horror, as did Mia's. The two stared at Jay with identical expressions of dismay, disbelief, and, she saw with a gut-wrenching pang, anger.

Rame took a step toward her. She didn't move back, though she would have very much liked to. Instead she cringed, like a strill shrinking back from a vengeful master's blow.

“I asked you to watch over him,” Rame said, an undercurrent of fury beneath his appalled tone. “To keep him safe.”

“H-he told me to leave,” she whispered. “He s-said he wanted me to go back to Mandalore and not look back.”

“And you _listened_ to him?” Rame shouted, his sudden fury causing her to shrink back in surprise and fear. His voice had taken on a gravelly, threatening tone she had never heard from the normally kind farmer. “You _di'kut_! You _shabla aruetii di'kut_!”

Jay burst into tears again, unable to defend herself against Rame's unexpected rage. “I-I'm _sorry_!” she cried. “I did my best!”

“You should have done _more_!” he shouted at her. He towered over her, a giant of silver-red _beskar'gam_. He looked as if he was about to strike her, but Mia grabbed his shoulder.

“Enough,” she said firmly. Jay could tell she was just as crushed by the news as her husband, but her self-control would never allow her to lash out at Jay with such rage. When Rame continued to stare at Jay with unabated fury, she grabbed his other shoulder and pulled him away. “That's _enough_ , Rame. Leave her alone.”

Mia led her husband out of the spaceport, arms still around his shoulders, whispering words to him that Jay couldn't hear. Before they had passed out of sight, another voice drew her attention from the retreating couple. This time, it was Jaing.

“ _Kal'buir_ wants to talk to you, _Kad'ika_ ,” the old clone growled, staring at Venku with narrowed eyes. “Apparently he saw right through my little story about you staying out of town for a few days. And it seems that you kept some info from me when you asked to go along.”

 _Ba'vodu_ -” Venku began, but Jaing interrupted him.

“What the _hell_ were you doing tangling with Imperial assassins?” he snapped, clenching a fist tightly. “Do you have any idea what you've done?”

Venku glanced at Jay, then said, “I was helping protect my friends. As a _Mando'ad_ should.”

“By implicating yourself in this,” Jaing snarled, “you may have brought the entire kriffing Empire down on the Skirata Clan! Do you have _any_ idea how hard _Kal'buir_ has worked to set us up here?”

“Uncle Jaing-” again, he was interrupted.

“You may have destroyed everything our family has worked for here on Mandalore,” Jaing said. “By following your own selfishness, you put every member of the Skirata Clan at risk. I'd be surprised if _Kal'buir_ doesn't beat you within an inch of your life.”

He grabbed Venku's arm roughly and hauled him toward the spaceport door. “Come on. You're coming with me to explain to your grandfather just what the _hell_ you've gotten yourself into.”

As they stepped through the door and out of sight, Jay was left alone in the hangar bay, feeling as if her world was falling apart at the seams. She felt an incredible weight fall on her shoulders and she felt like simply curling up and dying where she was.

“Damn you, Vhetin,” she found herself whispering. She shook her head, feeling cold fury course through her heart. Who was he to leave her like this, to leave her to once again clean up after the mess he'd left behind? His sacrifice had seemed noble at the time, but it was _selfish_. He had backed out of the game early, leaving her alone to deal with all the problems of his life in addition to the new ones his disappearance brought to her plate.

_Damn you, Vhetin. You coward. You cowardly son of a bitch._

Her anger suddenly vaporized as someone else stepped into the spaceport. It was a man, dressed in polished Mandalorian armor. He had his helmet clipped to his belt. His expression was a mix of sympathy and worry.

Her boyfriend. Her _cyar'ika_.

“I heard the news,” he said, stepping swiftly up to her and wrapping her in a tight hug. “Are you all right?”

She tried to answer him but found that words refused to come. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tighter, feeling as if he was the only anchor she had keeping her from drifting away on an ocean of despair.

“Are you all right, _Ja'ika_?” he repeated.

She sighed and rested her head against the cool metal of his armor. She closed her eyes, feeling his strong arms around her.

“No,” she whispered. “I'm not.”

~~~~~~~~

She paced back and forth across her apartment, staring at the floor. Her eyes were wide and her mind was a whirlwind of emotions.

 _It can't be true_ , she thought desperately. _It can't be true. It can't be._

Every time she thought it, though, her certainty grew stronger. Jay had left almost half an hour ago, but her heart still ached as if she had just been given the news. She ran her hands through her hair, feeling a wild, uncontrollable panic well up inside her.

 _He's gone_ , she thought. _He's gone forever and it's all my fault._

Her pacing quickened, driven on by her irrepressible panic. She shook her head, unwilling to believe it, unable to deny it.

Brianna halted when her gaze fell on the picture she had painted months ago. It was a still life painting of a Mandalorian battle helmet, painted black with two gray stripes on the left side of the dome.

 _His_ helmet.

She stared at the painting, feeling an unstoppable wave of guilt rise in her heart. She stared into the painted T-visor of the helmet, everything else in the world seeming to melt away.

 _I did this_ , she thought. _I broke his heart when I left him. I robbed him of his determination to protect himself. I may as well have been holding the blaster that gunned him down._

She shook her head, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her lips to stifle a sob. She couldn't believe it. After seven years fighting against the Empire, he had fallen.

And it was _all her fault_.

A memory rose unbidden from her mind, the image of one of her most treasured memories of him. She tried to push it away, to bury it deep within the throbbing wound in her heart, but it struggled to the forefront of her mind all the same.

_They had been sitting together, on the couch in her apartment. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and she was sitting on his lap, a smile on her face. They had been kissing a little, but mostly had just been staring at each other, looking deep into each other's eyes. That had been the level of intimacy he seemed to enjoy and she didn't want to spoil the evening with another fight._

_He had smiled at her, his intense blue eyes seeming to flame with a joy that had died over the next few months. He reached up and traced the contours of her face with his hand, his touch whisper-soft. He drew his thumb over her forehead, over the ridge of her brows, down her nose, and over her lips. She had smiled at him, loving his soft touch._

_“You are... so beautiful,” he had whispered, staring up at her with something akin to awe. “And I... I am so blessed to have the privilege of being your_ cyar'ika _._ _”_

_She had laughed and the motion had made his eyes light up again._ _“You're just being melodramatic. You always get like this when I cook.”_

_“You're an incredible cook,” he had said. “I have a right to be amazed.”_

_His soft touch slid slowly down her neck, over the material of her simple cloth shirt, and ran up and down her arm. His other hand traced up her opposite arm and gripped her firmly but gently by the shoulders._

_“I love you,” he murmured, staring into her eyes, “so much. And I promise I will never leave you.”_

_She had smiled and put a hand on his chest plates, giving him a halfhearted shove, chiding him for being so gushy._ _“That's a pretty big commitment, Cin. Are you sure you're up to the challenge?”_

_“I know I am,” he said with the hint of a smile. His blue eyes seemed to blaze even brighter. “You are more important to me than anything else in my world. More than my own life.”_

_Her smile had faded. She had slowly reached up and clasped one of his hands._ _“Don't talk like that,” she had whispered._

_“I have to,” he said seriously. “I'm not joking anymore, Bri. I would lay down my life for you in an instant.”_

_“I would rather that neither of us were put in that position.”_

_“You are the one bright spot in my entire universe,” he had whispered, rubbing her shoulders gently. “All I do, I do for you.”_

_Her smile returned a little at those words. They were an ancient Mandalorian love declaration, a courtship rhyme whispered between_ Mando'ad _lovers since the days of Mandalore the First. Like all Mandalorian oral traditions, it was short and to the point, wasting no time on over-explanation._

_“You know that I would do anything for you.”_

_She nodded slowly._ _“I know, Cin.”_

_“Even if it led to my own death. I will always be there for you. I promise.”_

_She had nodded again, not meeting that fiery blue gaze. She clasped his hand tighter, reassuring him that she accepted his promise._

_Then he had pulled her close and kissed her on the lips, and all thought of death or sacrifice had been driven from her thoughts._

The memory seemed to rob her of all her strength. She fell to her knees before the painting, bursting into tears as she stared into the faceplate of the man she had loved. The man she _still_ loved, no matter how hard she tried to fight the emotion.

“ _I'm sorry_ ,” she sobbed, resting her forehead against the painted dome of the helmet. “I'm so sorry, _cyar'ika..._ I take it all back, I swear. I'm sorry.”

But the painting just stared at her, as if reprimanding her for her disloyalty.

 _He promised me that he would never leave my side,_ she thought, tears running down her cheeks, _no matter how bad things got. And he kept that promise to the end._

_But I didn't._

She shook her head, sobbing uncontrollably. Her grief and guilt consumed her, driving any other thought from her mind.

 _I stayed with him as long as he made me happy_ , she thought. _As long as he satisfied my need for devotion and love. But when he needed me the most... I abandoned him._

Her grief was made all the more potent by the message that Jay had delivered after describing to her the events that had occurred on Mon Calamari. Vhetin's last words to his lover were simple but devastatingly clear, true to Mandalorian form.

 _I'm sorry_ , was all he had said.

The words needed no translation for Brianna. She knew exactly what he had meant. Even at the end, when he had been faced with death, he had thought of her.

And at the end, instead of blaming her for everything that had brought their relationship to its knees, he had blamed himself. His last words to her were an _apology_ for all his mistakes and failures over the last years.

 _I'm sorry_. They had to be the two most painful words Brianna had ever heard.

 _I'm sorry, too,_ she thought, her weeping slowly dying into pained little gasps. She looked up at the painting in front of her through watery eyes and shook her head. _I'm sorry, too, Cin._

_Forgive me._

_~~~~~~~~_

“Get him up here!” a vocoder-enhanced voice shouted. “Move it, we don't have all day!”

Vhetin was shoved up the ramp and into the facility. He stumbled over the heavy electro-shock shackles that bound his arms to his neck and legs. He could barely shuffle along without losing his balance and electrocuting himself. It was a miracle he could even stand.

The stormtrooper standing at the door to the Isolation Ward consulted a handheld datapad before saying, “All right, the prisoner's ready for processing. Get that armor off him so we can get him into the rest of his restraints.”

Vhetin barely moved as he felt hands ripping his helmet from his head, roughly yanking off the black facemask he wore beneath. They tore his jetpack from his back plate, tossing it carelessly aside. Someone took a vibroblade and slit his flak vest from armpit to hip and pulled it off him.

The only time he so much as moved was when the stormtrooper yanked his belt away. The white-armored man began rifling through the various belt pouches, tossing equipment across the floor when he found it of no further interest. After a few moments, he hissed, “Ooh, what have we here?”

He slowly pulled out a holopic of Brianna, holding it in front of his faceplate. Vhetin's arms flashed out as he moved to grab it and his handler jabbed him in the back with a stun prod. He twitched uncontrollably, groaning in pain, and fell to his hands and knees.

The stormtrooper hadn't moved, staring at the holopic intently. “Nice-lookin' fem you got here. Girlfriend or wife?”

Vhetin said nothing, eyes watering from the aftereffects of the stun prod. The trooper shrugged and tossed it to Vhetin's handler, who caught the pic easily and let out an appreciative whistle. “That's one hot bitch, bucket-head. Where can I get me one of those?”

Vhetin rose to his feet, fury racing through him at the man's words. That was his _cyar'ika_ , not some _nice-lookin' fem_. He clenched his hands into fists, then drove his forehead into his handler's face. He ignored the shock that crackled out from his restraints, instead flipping around his handler and wrapping the chains binding his restraints together around the man's throat. He tightened his grip, savoring the way the man sputtered and clutched at his throat.

“Guards!” someone shouted. “Prisoner going wild!”

Two mid-power stun bolts slammed into Vhetin's back as the stormtrooper fired at him. He spasmed and fell onto his back, numbness robbing him of the ability to use his arms and legs. His handler staggered to his feet, coughing uncontrollably, then hissed a curse and drove his heavy boot into Vhetin's ribs. The man's boot connected purposely with the still-fresh lightsaber burn on his side and he cried out in pain.

Reveling in the pain, using it to drive his body to move, he rolled over onto his stomach and slowly crawled toward the picture of Brianna, reaching out for it with shaking hands.

A heavy boot descended on the picture, snapping its power supply in half and grinding the paper-thin viewscreen into dust. Vhetin stared at what was left of the device with despair as the stormtrooper guard stepped away, wiping his boots off with a brush of his hand. He slumped and allowed his handler to haul him to his feet again.

“Get this scum processed,” the trooper barked. “The Whiteclaw scientists want to have a go at him before the day's up.”

By the time he was through being processed, he had been stripped of all his armor and clothing down to his form-fitting black undersuit. He was dragged through a reader that scanned him for any hidden weapons, then taken to the next part of the process.

His handler shoved him into the arms of several men and women in white surgical clothes, who undid the restraints on his arms and legs. He wasn't freed, however. Instead, they secured him to what looked like an operating table. He was strapped down with his arms held out wide from his body. He struggled against his new restraints, but to no avail.

“Just relax,” one of the doctors said in a sickly-sweet voice. “We're going to get you ready for your first day of work here.”

Vhetin's eyes slowly widened as one of the doctors held up a half-foot-long syringe. He began to struggle harder as they brought it closer, but his restraints allowed him no movement.

With a quick motion, the doctor stabbed the needle into the right side of Vhetin's chest. Vhetin arched his back and screamed, watching blood slowly fill the syringe. The scientist grimaced and pushed the syringe in farther. With a nauseating feeling, Vhetin felt something give way deep inside himself and one of the doctors reported, “Good. We've breached the right lung.”

Vhetin kept screaming the entire time, his mind filled with blind panic and his body overpowered by agony. One of the doctors mopped up the blood pooling around the syringe in his chest and called, “Gag. I can't concentrate with all this noise.”

He struggled as one of the doctors pushed a plastoid gag into his mouth, fastening a strap around the back of his head that held his mouth clamped shut.

His screams were muffled from then on as they inserted another syringe into the other side of his chest until it punctured his other lung. They then plunged one needle into each shoulder, one in each forearm, then flipped him over on the table and inserted three along his spine, one in the back of each calf and thigh, and one in his neck right at the base of his skull. By that time, he had almost passed out from pain.

Once the needles were in place, they began fastening plugs to the ends, and hooked long tubes to the plugs. Vhetin dazedly wondered if they meant to liquify his insides and suck it all out through the tubes. The tubes were then fastened to a small mechanical backpack that was strapped around his shoulders.

With their surgeries complete, they scientists once again gave him over to his handler. He could barely stand now, shambling along with half-closed eyes and blood leaking from around the plugs set into his body.

It took two stormtroopers to drag him through the facility. He was taken past security checkpoints manned by battalions of stormtroopers and security guards, through mounted turret emplacements in case of a breakout, and finally was dragged past rows and rows of holding cells. Each one was filled with trembling, terrified humans, men and women.

 _Test subjects_.

Vhetin shuddered, the movement sending ripples of pain through his body as it irritated the plugs in his back. He let his head loll and his shoulders sag, losing any will to hold himself upright any more.

The troopers dragged him through yet another armored door, where a force cage was waiting for him. They hauled him up into the repulsor field, then the cage's invisible gravity field finished the rest of the job. The beacons in the restraints on his wrists and ankles reacted with the energy field of the force cage, snapping his arms wide and holding his legs braced together.

He floated in mid air, watching the air between him and his guards shimmer from the effects of the force cage. Then the pain of his wounds and his recent surgeries overwhelmed him and his vision began to fade. He barely had the strength to summon up a final, despairing thought.

_It's over. The Tracker won._


	19. The Greatest Hunt

**Coruscant Underworld, two weeks later**

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ Kalyn Farnmir thought. _I can't believe I'm going to get myself killed for_ him _._

She made her way through the crowd massing in the Underworld market, shouldering her way past humans, Twi'leks, and otherwise. She didn't even stop and try to blend in with the crowd. If her target suspected someone was after him, any amount of stealth wouldn't matter. He'd just gun down everyone in the street.

She turned her head discreetly toward her jacket collar and the comlink hidden there. “You are so going to owe me for this.”

“I'm paying you, aren't I?” Moqena snapped. “Just do your job. We can't have any mistakes this time.”

Farnmir scowled deeper and slipped past a towering Wookiee who was arguing with his smuggler friend about some kind of shipping deal. This sector of the underworld was rife with crime. Kalyn could only imagine the bounties that some of these fierfeks had on their heads.

But for now, she had eyes only for the figure who was making his way slowly through the crowd ahead of her. He wasn't hard to miss, once she knew what to look for. His long trench coat and tarnished durasteel facemask were unmistakeable, even in the crowded market.

A human man with a long beard and only three teeth threw himself at Kalyn, begging her to buy some kind of alcoholic beverage of his own design. She shook the man off with a scowl and looked after her quarry just in time to see him duck down a side-alley and out of sight. She doubled her pace and turned into the alley after him.

“I've got him,” she murmured as she rounded the corner. “Heading into an alley. Track my comm signal. I'll lead you right to him.”

“On it,” Jay said.

She had no sooner taken two steps down the alley than the pavement exploded at her feet. She cursed and threw herself back as blaster bolts hissed through the air near her head. She landed heavily on her  back and drew her own silver-plated pistol, not even bothering to aim. She sprayed the alley with blaster fire and saw the dark figure she was hunting duck and somersault out of harm's way.

She scrambled to her feet as she saw him take off down the alley, firing after him. Chips of duracrete exploded in his face, but he barely slowed down. She cursed and sprinted after him.

He was fast, fast enough to surprise even Kalyn. She prided herself on being in top physical condition but as hard as she pushed herself he always seemed to be farther and farther ahead of her.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “I'm losing him.”

He turned to dash around a corner when an armored fist flashed out and caught him in the throat. He let out a choked shout of surprise as he was slammed down against the pavement.

Kadira Sal's armored form stepped out from around the corner, watching the man writhe and cough on the ground through the emotionless faceplate of her helmet. She raised her gauntlet comm piece and said, “This is Kadira. The target's down.”

“Good,” Moqena said, sounding relieved. “Pack him up and get him to the rendezvous point.”

“Copy that,” Kadira said, then knelt and shoved the man over onto his stomach. She clapped a pair of binders over his wrists with a well-practiced motion. As soon as she was sure he was securely restrained, she looked up at Kalyn as the other woman finally jogged up to her.

“You're getting slow, _Kayl'ika,_ ” the Mandalorian woman said in her quiet, raspy voice. “If he'd gotten any further ahead you would have had to take a speeder cab to catch up.”

“Kriff you, Sal,” Kalyn panted, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “You only managed to take him down because I drove him right to you.”

“I don't think-”

“Argue about who gets credit later,” Jay said over comms. “Just get him over here. You have no idea how much I want to talk to him.”

~~~~~~~~

A bright shaft of light sprang to life in the dark, dusty room. The light shone directly into the Tracker's eyes, making his already-tender forehead throb. He grimaced and squinted through the glare to watch a woman walk slowly up to the table in front of him.

“Force damn it,” he muttered turning away from the light as best he could. “Isn't this a little old-fashioned for an interrogation?”

“Oh, I kind of like it,” she said, sliding into a chair across from him. “I think it really sets the mood. You'd prefer whitewashed walls and shiny, sharp medical utensils?”

“A little, yeah. At least I'm used to that.”

“Well, you're not a lucky man today,” she said, folding her hands calmly in front of her. She stared at him for a long time, staring at his uncovered face. One of the first things they had done was take his facemask and his coat. He glared at her, then blinked away blood that leaked down from the cut on his forehead.

“You know what I want.”

The Tracker chuckled. “Of course. You want me to cough up the location of the hidden Imperial base where scientists are poking and prodding at your trusty partner. You want me to tell you everything I know about this _Project Whiteclaw_.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

He laughed again, looking up at the ceiling. “Well sorry, sister, but you're not so lucky today either. I'm not talking.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“Is it?” he asked, looking down at her again. “I know all about you and your partner. I'm not afraid of you.”

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Why's that?”

“You've got rules,” the Tracker hissed at her, ignoring his throbbing head. “Unlike some of the other scumbags you might find in the bounty hunting business these days, you and your bucket-head partner are different. You two have standards. _Morals_. You care about right and wrong.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, not looking angry or put off in the least. “But maybe you destroyed that part of me when you took my partner away.”

“Oh please. We both know that you're the only reason Vhetin's been behaving himself this past year. Without you, he would have been no better than any other street thug.”

“That's one theory,” Jay said, slowly standing. “Let me offer my own: Vhetin's been _behaving_ this past year because he's been too busy keeping _me_ on a leash to worry about his own problems.”

“What?”

“Maybe he's been the only thing holding _me_ back,” she said, circling the table until she was standing behind him, out of sight. He heard her bend over, felt her breath on his ear as she whispered, “This hunt with you made me realize something about myself.”

“What's that?”

She stepped around the other side of the table, trailing her fingertips along the dulled, dirty surface. “I realized that Vhetin's methods were all wrong. He was so concerned with creating more good than bad that he forgot to focus on _getting the job done_.”

She turned to him, resting her palms against the tabletop. Her face looked gaunt and ghostly in the pale light that washed over the table.

“The ends always justify the means,” she said calmly. “Whether those means are theft, bribery... or murder.”

“What're you talking about?” the Tracker sighed, once again squinting into the light. “Are you gonna kill me? Because if I die, you have no more leads.”

She didn't reply, only reached into her jacket and drew out a holopic. She slapped it on the table, then stepped back into the shadows. The Tracker stared at the darkness where she had vanished, then cautiously leaned forward to see what the pic showed.

It showed a young man with dark skin, curly black hair, and brown eyes. The pic showed him walking down a crowded city street, waving to someone in greeting. The Tracker narrowed his eyes, instantly recognizing the man displayed there. Fury burned in his heart as he noticed the most important detail of the image:

It was taken through the viewpoint of a sniper scope.

“Where did you get this?” he hissed, his voice barely audible.

“It surprised me at first,” the woman's voice said from the darkness, “that the Empire would allow someone with such strong family ties to work as a black-ops agent. Usually they disqualify people like that from the start. Or didn't you tell them you had a brother?”

“Where did you get this picture?” he demanded, flexing his arms against his restraints.

“Your brother is currently on assignment with the Imperial Treasury Office on Vulpter,” the woman said. “He works in cubicle fifteen in his office, goes to lunch punctually every day at exactly five minutes before noon. He always eats in the same restaurant, two blocks east from his work. Yesterday, I believe he ordered nuna soup with extra spice.”

“Is this your plan?” the Tracker said, trying to cover up his fear with arrogance. “You're going to blackmail me into telling you? How do I know this is even a recent image? How do I know you haven't already killed him?”

“Look at the time stamp on the holo, Tracker,” the woman murmured. “It was taken fifteen minutes ago. And what good would a bargaining chip be if he was already dead?”

She appeared again, sliding into the seat across from him and folding her hands calmly like before.

“All I'm offering,” she said, “is a trade. Your brother's life for the information I want. Your info checks out, we leave your brother alone. Sounds fair enough, doesn't it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and murmured, “You bitch.”

“Come on,” she said, frowning at him. “There's no need to get rude. Besides, you started all this. You attacked Vhetin unprovoked, brought our attention to your presence. You brought this on yourself.”

She leaned across the table and stared into his pale blue eyes. “I'm offering you the deal of a lifetime. Information for your brother's life. I'm sure you wouldn't want to refuse, would you?”

The Tracker stared at her for a long time, holding her gaze, his blue eyes never leaving her brown ones. But eventually he sighed and slumped in his chair. “Fine. I'll tell you what I know.”

She produced a handheld audio recorder from her pocket and clicked it on. “Start talking.”

“All I know,” he said, still glaring at her, “is what my field commander tells me. He ordered me to bring Vhetin in and he was the one I turned him over to. I had sporadic contact with Darth Vader, but ninety-five percent of my information came from my field commander.”

“And what's his name?” Jay pressed. “Where can I find him?”

“Sebian Lox,” the Tracker muttered. “Commander Sebian Lox. He's stationed on Tental Seven, in an Imperial outpost in the jungle.”

“Anything else I should know?” she asked, shaking the recorder for emphasis. “We wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen to your brother, now would we?”

“The outpost operates with a skeleton crew to avoid outside attention,” the Tracker growled. “Ten, fifteen stormtroopers at the most. Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure.”

“I'm sure,” she echoed. She clicked off the recorder and stood. “Well, I have to thank you for your help, Tracker. Your intel should prove very helpful.”

“Kriff you.”

She ignored his words, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets. “There's just... one more problem.”

“What now?” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“There's really no tactful way to put it,” she said, “so I'll just come out and say it. You're under arrest.”

“ _What_?”

Another figure, one that the Tracker hadn't even suspected was there, seemed to melt out of the shadows. It was a man, wearing polished gold armor with a gray undersuit. His helmet was clipped to his belt, revealing a handsome face with short blond hair and dark blue eyes.

This new man folded his gauntleted arms across his chest and said, “You attacked a Mandalorian civilian with intent to kill within Keldabe city limits, buddy. In my books, that's called _attempted murder._ ”

“I'll be back on the streets within the day,” the Tracker spat. “My superiors won't care how much it costs to get me out, even if you post some insanely expensive bail.”

“Oh don't you know?” the gold-armored man said as he hauled the Tracker to his feet. “There's no such thing as bail on Mandalore.”

“What?”

“Yeah, 'cause then you get stuff like bail bondsmen in the mix, and before you know it you'd have bounty hunters hunting down other bail-jumping bounty hunters. And having heavily armed _beroyas_ gunning for each other is never a good thing.”

Then the man hauled the Tracker out of the room.

~~~~~~~~

Jay stepped out of the room and instantly made for Venku, who was watching Denton drag the Tracker toward their shuttle.

“You think he fell for it?” she asked as she approached.

“What, that the sniper pic was a doctored version of the one we found in his apartment? Probably. He spilled the info, didn't he?”

“Now we just have to see how reliable it is,” she murmured, staring at the dirty floor of the shack where they'd decided to hide the Tracker. “Where are Kalyn and Kadira?”

“Going their separate ways,” Venku replied, still staring after the Tracker. “They've got their money and are heading off the Force-knows-where. So that's one issue dealt with.”

She stared at her friend, then said, “ _Kad'ika_... we need to talk about what happened on Mon Calamari. Before we left.”

He shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I made it clear how I felt, Jay. I don't know that there's anything to talk about.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and he finally turned toward her. She stared at him for a few long moments, then sighed. “I want you to know that I'm flattered by what you said and... and what you did, but... but I can't return your feelings.”

He nodded and stared at the floor. “I thought so. Previous commitments, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said with a slight smile. “I'm really not the kind to cheat on my _cyar'ika_ s.”

“I guess I was just a little too late,” he said with a sigh.

“I still care about you,” she said, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “But as a friend. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too,” he said pulling his arm gently from her grip and stepping past her. He looked as if he was going to head to back to the ship, but he glanced back at her.

“ _Cyar'ika_ or no,” he said quietly, “it doesn't change the way I feel about you, Jay.”

“I know,” she said. “But I just can't.”

He nodded sadly, then turned and strode off down the hall and toward the ships. Denton appeared again, stepping past him and frowning at the young Mandalorian's dejected expression. He then strode up to Jay and jerked his thumb at the retreating Mando.

“What's with him?” he asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt and glancing over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Jay said with a sigh,“We just had some business to clear up.”

“Oh,” he said with a shrug. “Well, the Tracker's all loaded up and ready for transportation back to Keldabe. If you're ready to head back...”

She nodded as they began heading back to the ship. “I wanted the thank you for coming all this way. I know it's a long way for a simple Mandalorian city cop.”

“It's no problem,” he replied easily. “I mean, the guy did break the law. That makes it my responsibility to lock him up. You guys just saved me some legwork.”

“Thanks all the same,” she said with a smile. “I owe you more than one.”

“From all I've heard, I'm not surprised you're calling in some favors.”

He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It'll be okay. You know that, right? You'll find him again.”

She nodded as they stepped out onto the landing pad and into the Coruscant night. Distant lights twinkled as millions of speeders flashed through the air, carrying innumerable beings to their destinations all over the planet. Beyond that, there were billions of skyscrapers in the distance, housing countless military officers, treasury investigators, enforcement office employees, senators, crime lords, bounty hunters, and endless others. And beyond _that_ lay the whole rest of the galaxy, millions of worlds with an infinite number of places to hide a remote Imperial outpost.

And somewhere, hidden away from prying eyes, was her partner.

She strode into the ship, strapped herself into the co-pilot's chair in the cockpit, and immediately brought up all the HoloNet information she could find on Commander Sebian Lox and the planet Tental 7. She wanted all the info she could find before she went out to track this Imperial down and follow the next link in the chain that would eventually lead her to her partner.

She looked up, staring out the viewport as the ship tunneled out of Coruscant's atmosphere and out into space. She watched the twinkling stars against the endless black of space, knowing that he was out there, somewhere. Waiting for her to find him.

 _Don't worry, Vhetin_ , she thought, a steely determination settling over her heart. _I'm coming for you._


	20. Jay's Postscript

So there you have it. The first year of my partnership with Vhetin. The ups and downs and the fleeting moments in between. I'm not asking you to like what you've learned. I'm not even asking you to believe it. The truth is that I really just don't give a shab any more.

I once said that I didn't want to become cold and cynical like Vhetin. I still don't. I'm determined to show that I can rise above all the darkness, to prove to myself and those around me that I am strong enough to live like this.

I have a recurring nightmare, where I find myself encased from head to toe in battle armor that simultaneously protects and smothers me. I thrash about and scream, but I can't move. I just wait there, waiting for my armor to smother me to death. And then I see my reflection in the mirror and I see that it's Vhetin's armor that I'm wearing.

It doesn't take an expert psychologist to understand the dream: if I follow Cin's example, if I push away everyone I care about, it'll destroy me. Just like it destroyed him.

That's why I'm taking control now. I'm doing things my way. And no matter what people say, I will not believe that Vhetin is dead. He's out there somewhere, probably held captive by these Whiteclaw scientists, but he is alive.

In the end all that matters is this: I won't believe he's dead, I won't stop looking for him, and I won't give up hope. I will keep searching. I will find him. And when I do, I will rescue him. Like he rescued me, what seems like a lifetime ago, at BlueSend Prison on Corulag.

 _Ret'urcye mhi_. Those were the last words he said to me. Do you know what it means? It's a common Mando farewell: “Maybe we'll meet again.”

My name is Jayshiea Elmerie Naer-Kolta. I am a bounty hunter. And I won't stop hunting until I prove just how fitting that farewell was. We will meet again. You just wait, and I'll show you.

 _Oya_.

~~~~~~~~

_To be continued..._


End file.
